Harry Potter and the Dark Torch of Anglithae
by Boom-Rhapsody
Summary: With his sixteenth birthday having come and gone. Harry Potter is once more thrown into a world of tumult and new faces. Back against the wall, He struggles to understand new quirks that sway how Fate shall handle his life. Read to chapter 11 before judge
1. Patrt One: Summer Holiday

A/N: revamped and edited. Enjoy and review!

**-----CHAPTER ONE-----**

Harry twisted around in his seat as the Dursley's car pulled away from Kings Cross Station. He watched as Moody, Tonks, Lupin and the Weasley's shrank in the distance. Harry waved at them, ignoring the sideways looks he was getting from Dudley. As they dwindled away his heart sank into his stomach. If this summer was anything like last summer, it would be a good two months before any of the Order contrived to whisk him away from number four Privet Drive.

"God, quit waving at them," Dudley suddenly said crossly.

"Why should I?" Harry retorted, glaring at him.

"Hush, the both of you," Vernon said, looking at the two through the rear- view mirror.

Harry reluctantly held back his next remark, as did Dudley. The car was tenser than usual. Vernon was a ghastly shade of purple, and Petunia was sitting upright in her seat with her hands neatly in her lap as she stared dead ahead.

"Why can't you just stay at that madhouse of a school all the time?" Dudley asked, sneering.

"Because the 'madhouse' closes for the summer, genius," Harry muttered, stretching.

Dudley let out a stifled shout as he saw Harry's wand tucked under the waste band of his jeans.

"Dad! He's showing his _'thing'_!" Dudley exclaimed, trying to scoot as far away as he could, though he'd already tried that upon entering the car.

"I was not!" Harry shouted; "I was stretching, you great oaf!"

"That's enough, boy!" Vernon roared.

"Well, you're darling _diddykins_ started it," Harry sneered.

"Do not make me pull this car over, boy!" Vernon threatened, the car giving a lurch.

"Oh yes, do try," Harry scoffed; "Then what will happen to me?"

" Vernon," Petunia said quietly, laying a hand on her husband's plump thigh before he could reply.

The rest of the car ride was silent and Harry was washed over with a sudden since of foreboding. Not twenty minutes and he was already regretting ever leaving the platform. He could have easily run, but that would have solved nothing and he knew this all too well. Heaving a sigh, he settled back into his seat, wishing the leather would swallow him whole and no one would see him ever again.

He finally climbed out of the car at Number Four, Private Drive, hauled his belongings up to his room, where Vernon came and slammed the door. Harry took it that he shouldn't leave for a few days. Good thing he had stored and brought a few snacks and treats from the train.

Harry sighed, and went to his bed. Harry fell onto it, rolled over, and stared up at his ceiling. He could not understand for the life of him why he was subject to such ironies. Here, he lay in the home of his nightmares, a home he could not call such. He could be at the Burrow, a real home, a place where he was accepted.

He could be with Sirius, at a flat they would have, could have shared… He could enjoy having a parental figure. But no, such was not the case for one Harry Potter.

He sat up, and looked out the window. Down in the garden sat a...

"Hold on," Harry muttered; "A fox?"

The fox was a steely, almost black silver, save for its crystal blue eyes. It was crouched beneath a rather large holly hock bush, watching Vernon and Petunia on the driveway as if it was staking the place out for a later attack. Vernon and Petunia were talking across the fence with the neighbors. The fox's eyes darted around, and then it backed into the bush, ran across the street, and through Miss Figg's yard to the fields.

Harry sighed, rubbed his eyes, and then looked at the spot again. The last bit of smoke vanished, and Harry shook his head. _I was just imagining things,_ he thought, before laying on his bed again to stare at the ceiling.

It was going to be a long two months.

----------------

The next five weeks were filled with nothing but long, hot summer days and constant fights with Dudley and or Vernon. Petunia had only stayed out of them, preferring to stay out of trouble from the Order and especially Dumbledore. That left Harry all on his own, and inevitably he received a black eye and bruised ribs from Dudley. What infuriated him most was the fact that Vernon had watched the fight and laughed, laughed his head off as if watching a Monty Python rerun, damn that comic. Harry had finally kicked Dudley in the groin and ran to his room, where he was chased there by Vernon.

Now Harry lay curled up in his bed, two days after the last fight. He had managed to look up a quick healing drought, and was relieved that a letter hadn't come for underage wizardry. He decided to spend his time reading a book Hermione had given to him at the last minute, surprised it was a Muggle novel. Many of Dudley's old books were in his room as well, but Harry had finished them long ago.

Harry sat up when he heard the doorbell, and curious, opened the door. He went to the steps, and watched as Vernon walked to the door. It's seven at night, Harry thought; who could be at the door?

To answer his question, there was a girl. She was Harry's age at least, very thin and lean. With bright teal eyes and hair as dark as carved mahogany, in an oversized sweater and faded jeans, she did not seem imposing. But her face was rosy with angered as she stared up at Vernon. Harry saw that a stick, a wand, jutted out from her pocket. The girl tugged at her sweater though, concealing it.

"Who are you?" Vernon asked, annoyed already.

"Where's 'Arry?" the girl snapped, her arms crossed.

"There is no Harry living here," Vernon sneered.

"Come off it! Don't be rude, lemme in!" the girl's accent was odd, like that of Oliver Wood's, but with an ancient, newly risen quirk to it. She pushed her way in, and then closed the door.

"Now, I didn't say you could come into my house!" Vernon shouted.

"And quit yellin', do ye wanna wake the whole street? Sound like a bloomin' banshee, ya do," the girl added, crossing her arms; "Now, do Ah 'ave ta spell it out for you? Where-is-'Air-ree-Pah-tah? I 'aven't got all day, ya know."

"I'm right here," Harry said, walking down the steps.

The girl looked at Harry, blinking slowly; "A'ight, then," she said, "The name's Brenna, Harry. Ah'm 'ere to take ya off now, away from thess 'ellish abode," she added, looking around; "Ever'thin' is so… so _clean_," she said, shivering.

" Vernon, dear? What's going on?" Petunia asked, walking from the kitchen. She stared at the girl, awe struck and speechless; "Who-" she said, "-is this?" she glared daggers at Harry, and Harry shrugged.

"I dunno," Harry said simply, "Why are you here?"

Brenna scratched the side of her nose, giving Vernon a rueful look; "Ah'm 'ere to take ya to Albus, 'r somewheres, canna remember 'zactly. Do know it's got somat to do wit' teh Order."

"No, you're not going anywhere," Petunia said, then she looked Brenna; "I do not know who you are, young lady, but you should do best and just walk right on out the way you came."

"Sorry, marm, but Ah do 'ave 'igher orders," Brenna said, grinning a grin Harry had only seen once on Sirius before he went to carry out a mild prank or simple trick; "Ya see, a kind man, a Mister Albus…" she paused in thought, then drew a parchment from her front pocket.

She unfolded it, then said; "Ah, yes, a 'Mister Albus Dumbledore, aloong wit' the remaining Order, 'as asked that Brenna Lefrael McBennitae, of the Delgrishire Estate, last remainin' relative o' Elf Wizard Anestrothea, t' escort the Master 'Arry James Pottah t' Delgrishire Estate. Lettahs 'ave bin sent t' alert the residents of Private Drive, Number Four, though Miss McBennitae might arrive before them. In any case, Master Pottah is to accompany Miss McBennitae'…" she finished, crossing her arms and eyeing Petunia; "There, are ya 'appy? 'Tis signed by the man himself, an' nobody can go back on Dumbledore!"

Brenna threw the parchment, and Petunia caught it anxiously. Her sharp scolding eyes darted along the page as she read, and then she looked at Brenna, "How can I be so sure this is not some trick?" she asked brusquely.

Brenna rolled her eyes, and drew her wand; "Oy, thess is a wand," she said slowly, as if speaking to a small child as she held it up with her index fingers; "Which means Ah'm privy to anothah world you detest. Noow, Ah'm also bin given a special task, So if ya don't mind…" she put her wand away; "I'll be leavin' wit' 'Arry."

Harry laughed quietly, shaking his head; "I'll go get my trunk, then," he said, his smile broadening as he walked up the steps.

"Well, 'urry, then!" Brenna said; "Ah've got a time limit, else Moody'll have me hide!"

Ten minutes later, Harry was lugging his things down the stairs. He left the trunk at the door, and went to fetch Hedwig. Petunia watched on, Vernon having gone into the living room muttering about freaks and how he'd best stay out if it. Brenna and Petunia were conversing quietly, Petunia looking flustered and annoyed and Brenna on the verge of slapping the other woman. But, she smiled when Harry finally put on his coat, holding his broom in his hand.

"Ah, no need fa that," Brenna said, taking Hedwig's cage with the owl hooting softly; "We'll be drivin' out."

"Driving?" Harry asked, and Brenna winked.

"Yep," Brenna said, opening the door. She turned to Petunia; "A letter will come explainin' everything, Petunia, no worries."

Petunia huffed and nodded, before shoving them and the trunk out and slamming the door.

Harry laughed; "What'd you say to her?" he asked.

Brenna winked; "Oh, not much," she replied, "Thess and tha', buh nary much more. Jus' mentioned a bit of the Ordah, an' that Moody's around. Speakin' o' whom, where is teh old scar?" she looked around, then shook her head before shouting; "Et's not cursed, Mister Moody, it's just a postal… _thing_!"

"It was quacking!" Moody exclaimed. He was beside the neighbor's mailbox, one with ducks and geese painted on the side.

"That's because it's supposed to!" Harry said; "Can we go?"

"Yar, we're goin'," Moody said; "Get over here, you two."

They all went to a secluded patch of trees, and Moody pulled out a port key; "Driving thing was a ruse, then?" Harry asked, grinning at Brenna. Again, she winked and smiled. Moody rolled his eyes, and soon the three, along with Harry's belongings, were gone.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

a/n: review!


	2. Welcome to Delgrishire Estate

A/N: revamped and edited. Remember to review!

**-----CHAPTERTWO----- **

The portkey took them from the suburbs to the countryside in a whirlwind of color and magic. Harry opened his eyes, and gasped, finding himself on the ground with his trunk on his leg. Ahead of him was a grand estate, complete with a three story castle with a Victorian Tutor front, a large garden, pond, stables, and acres upon acres of forests and fields. There was no civilization in sight, and mountains were on the skyline to the east.

"'Arry, y'a'ight?" Brenna asked, helping him up.

"Er, yeah, fine!" Harry said, dusting himself off.

"Lucky the trunk dinna crush ya," Brenna said; "Come oon, best get inside."

"Where are we?" Harry asked as he gather up his trunk and Hedwig's cage.

"Delgrishire," Brenna replied.

Moody had already gone inside. Brenna and Harry walked up the sloping walk, and finally breached the castles walls. The foyer was much like that of Hogwarts, open and regal, though there was no stain glass. Portraits lined the walls, but Harry noticed how some were unmoving, as if painted by a Muggle artist. Only one, in fact, moved, a portrait of an elderly man whose eyes projected much hardship in the life the painting had captured.

There were three doors, two to the left and right, then two double doors straight ahead. On each side of the double doors were turning staircases that lead to the second floor and curved around on up to the third. Harry was transfixed by the architecture, until Brenna tapped him on the arm and directed his attention to elsewhere.

"'Arry, would ya like Ah show ya 'round?" Brenna asked; "Ya stuff'll be taken up for ya."

"Oh, okay," Harry said, "Sounds like a good idea." He still had many questions, but he would ask along the way, if he had the chance

Brenna allowed a small smile; "The door to the left is the dinin' 'all, and the kitchen's attached;" she explained; "The right is a small lib'ry, mostly a meetin' 'all. And on oop the second floor…" she said as they took the stairs; "Well, mostly studies an' empty rooms."

Harry took a chance to peer into a few, at Brenna's bidding. Most were piled with books, scrolls, and other paraphernalia one would find in a study or closet. But one room struck him as odd, even disturbing. It had no furnishings, just solid concrete walls with one barred window. There were jagged cuts torn into the stone, and the floor, and patches of red here and there.

"what happened?" he asked, looking at Brenna.

Brenna peered into the room solemnly; "We get many visitahs, 'Arry," she explained; "An' ig et's a werewolf, well…" she paused; "Thess is where they'd go durin' the full moon."

Harry nodded; "Seems it does more 'arm than good."

"No," Brenna said; "The forests 're full o' the dang'rous sort."

Harry suddenly remembered that the full moon had only been two days ago. He looked inside, seeing only a stone room with seemingly thousands of gashes and long, deep claw marks. The floors and walls were splattered with red in some places, and Harry grimaced.

"It still makes you wonder," Harry mumbled; "Anything else down here?"

"Oh, well there's the stairs to the tower," Brenna said; "But, et's just an observatory. M' grandda reads teh stars sometimes, an tha's 'is little get away from the world. Anyway, there're a few guest rooms, but teh majority o' teh bedrooms a're on the third floor. Come on."

They went to the third floor, and Harry was once more greeted with still pictures and faded ones. The faces of the portraits were all of sadness, anger, remorse, and several were frozen crying.

"Um, Brenna," Harry said; "What's wrong with all these paintings? Aren't they supposed to be moving?"

Brenna pushed her hair back behind her ears, and for the first time Harry noticed they were oddly shaped. Come to think of it, she bore a resemblance to many of the paintings. Obviously it was a family estate, but Harry did not think that blood ran so thick. Perhaps it did, who was he to know?

"Tha's what 'appens when the person 'n the portrait dies," she explained

Harry stared at her; "I'm... I'm sorry to here that," he said finally.

"Et's not your fault, 'Arry," she said, looking at a portrait; "Things 'appen, people get 'urt. People lie…"

"What?" Harry asked.

Brenna looked at him; "Ya should unnerstan', 'Arry," she said; "He's taken a lot from ya, 's well."

Then he knew who she was talking about; "You say Voldemort's led a crusade against your family?"

"Not just m' fam'ly," Brenna said; "M' kind."

Harry stared at her; "Ah'm elfin, 'Arry," she said; "Part o' why you're here es 'cause Albus 'as an agreement wit' m' grandda. Your hear on account Voldemort's spreadin' 'is wings, dinna think Surrey would be safe for ya. Thess place is an unknown."

Harry stared at another frozen portrait; "So… all these people…" he whispered.

"Used t' talk, walk, breathe, laugh, love, cry…?" Brenna's voice trailed off; "Aye, they did. M' Grandda said… tha' when m' da died, 'e managed t' take a few Death Eatas wit' 'im, but…" she shrugged, "ever'thin's believable."

"What was your father's name?" Harry asked, glancing at all of the male portraits.

Wordlessly Brenna went up to the third floor, Harry quick to follow.

"That him right there," Brenna said, and Harry stopped before the portrait.

Beneath the painting, in gold lettering, read "Amadeus Rubea McBennitae, third son of Anestrothea, died on the fifth of May, 1994, defending fellow bloodline from Death Eaters..." Harry held his breath as he stared at the still painting. The man had hair like Brenna's, pulled back in a loose ponytail. He was wearing black armor, standing regally with a black staff in his hand. The man seemed noble, but his grey eyes sent the message of fear, anxiety, but above all pure anger all together. He held his head high, pride in the slight smile he wore. There was a large, black wolf hound at its side, the beast of a dog frozen in the middle of a snarl. But Amadeus' eyes...

And to beat it all his ears were pointed and a little large compared to Brenna's. Harry looked back towards Brenna, and saw she was opening a door.

"This is your room," she said, coughing, her eyes watery; "Mine's on teh other end if ya need anything. Mister Shacklebolt is beside you, an' then Mister Lupin is across. Mister Moody beside him, and then the rest are guest rooms. Tonks is on the other end with me, and then the rest of the rooms are going to be used whenever the others arrive. But, most likely, we'll be the on'y ones 'ere for now. Order's real busy..."

"Oh, Ron's coming?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Ah'm not sure who," Brenna said, looking at him and smiling; "Ah don't get out much and Ah don't know many people. Well, your trunk's up, so Ah guess Ah'll leave ya t' unpack. If ya need anything, just shout."

Harry smiled and nodded, watching her go. Brenna went to the other end of the hall, opened a door to her room, and went in, the door closing slowly. Harry sighed, and went into his own room. But that sigh became a gasp as he looked around.

The room was decorated in reds and gold's of all shades. There was a large circular bed with pillows galore. There was a rug, and a fireplace. There was also a couch, two chairs, desk, bookcase, closet, bathroom, and a small balcony. Harry walked out to the balcony. He had a perfect view of the forest, and a river. Harry sighed, and then walked back into the room. He went over to his trunk, but it was empty. In a panic, he threw the closet doors open, realizing it was a walk-in and his clothing was hung up neatly.

His broom was on a sword holder on the wall, Harry realized, when he walked out of the closet. Harry shrugged, and closed the closet door. All of his books and school things were on the desk or in the bookcase. Harry sighed again, running a hand through his hair. He looked at a clock, and gasped when he saw it was after midnight. Though he was up to late nights, Harry was in desperate need of sleep. He consciously yawned, got into his pajamas, and went to bed, regardless of the time of day.

-o-

Harry woke the next morning, showered, and dressed in simple walk-around pants. He found a tray of breakfast food on the small coffee table, along with a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry quickly ate and discarded the paper, and finished getting ready. Harry opened his closet, shocked to find new clothing hanging along with his old. Harry went through the shirts, the pants, and the shoes. He finally decided on simple faded jeans and a black T-shirt with collar, and a pair of tennis shoes.

Harry then checked that everything was in its place, a habit from living with Dudley. Satisfied, Harry ran his hands through his hair again. He walked back into the hallway, and looked around. Brenna's door was open, and he watched as a ghost floated out.

The ghost was female, that of a woman. She was gaunt and skinny, her long white hair flowing behind her along with her robes. She was pretty, and Harry and seen her conversing with Nick, or at least he thought he recognized her from somewhere. The ghost stared at Harry with a vague, haunting expression, then made her way down the staircase and faded away like a lost whisper.

Harry leaned against the wall as Brenna came out of her room, and then walked over to her; "Didn't know there were ghosts here," he said.

"Oh, tha' was Anne," Brenna said, waving her hand; "she's been 'ere since we came, an' tha' was about ten generations ago."

Harry nodded; "Ah, okay," he said; "Hey, thanks for the clothing."

"Oh, a Molly Weasley and a Minerva McGonagall dropped it off last night," Brenna said.

"Oh," Harry said, nodding, "So, is Dumbledore or somebody here?"

"They might be," Brenna said; "Come on, let's go see!"

Brenna and Harry went down the steps, and came to the main hallway again; "Let's check the library," Brenna said; "They hold meetings in there."

Harry nodded, and Brenna took his arm as the two teens ran down the left hallway. Brenna stopped, and Harry helped her push open two large oak doors. It opened up to a library almost a large as Hogwarts, though there were three floors to it and another loft like area near the ceiling. Harry looked around, and saw two wizards conversing over several books. Dumbledore was one, and the other Harry recognized by the only color portrait he had seen yet. The old man must be Anestrothea, he thought, and he was right. Brenna smiled, broke into a quick run, and wrapped the tall, sturdy old man in a hug. The man smiled, and hugged her briefly. As Harry walked up he caught the two conversing in a tongue he couldn't place or recognize. Thankfully though, He was drawn from his confusion by Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling as Harry approached them; "Good to see you are in one piece. I heard Brenna gave your aunt something to talk about."

Brenna blushed, releasing Anestrothea.

"Ah, Harry, this, is Anestrothea, the kind man willing enough to let us use his home," Dumbledore said; "Anestrothea, this is Harry Potter."

"Ah yes, Harry," Anestrothea said, shaking Harry's hand briefly; "Now, Albus," he said, turning to Dumbledore; "Look here, at this map..."

Harry and Brenna watched on, but when Dumbledore looked at Harry, Harry got the picture; "we need to go," he whispered to her, tugging at her sleeve.

"Oh, okay," Brenna said, and they left the library; "Come on, Ah'll show ya teh grounds!"

--------

It took the entire day just to cover the main grounds and parts of the farm and after dinner Harry and Brenna found themselves walking down the second floor hallway. In the course of the day Harry had leaned more things about Brenna and she had learned more things about him than the two wagered. Harry had found out that both of Brenna's parents had died at the hands of Death Eaters, Like Harry's had, Brenna was also trained with a wand, though she could project magic without it. She was also an only child. Brenna led a very unknowing life Harry had concluded, because when he asked he questions about her family's business and the Order she was either oblivious or didn't know enough to suffice. Still, Harry had fast become friends with Brenna. And her eagerness to hear about Muggles and the ways of the Wizarding world kept him talking.

"This place is bigger than it lets on," Harry said as they stopped briefly.

"Yeah, magic's somethin', eh?" Brenna asked, walking across the hall and into a sitting room.

Harry yawned as he entered, realizing how late it was; "Tired?" Brenna asked, smiling as she sat down.

"Nah," Harry said, shaking his hand and yawning again. He took a seat beside her on a couch by the fire, and rested his head on a pillow.

"Hmm, I think Tonks is here," Brenna mused when they heard a loud crash from the first floor.

"How long have you known about the Order?" Harry suddenly asked, sitting up on his elbows.

Brenna looked over at him, "Couple o' months, I s'pose," she replied; "No, since I met Remus Lupin. One night 'e came wit' Dumbledore a few months ago, terribly upset about somat or other…" she finished, crossing her arms and staring into the fire. "Funny how things have come full circle…" she mumbled.

Harry watched her in silence, watching how the flames danced in her eyes to mix with the natural fire that burned with surviving anger and pain. Harry couldn't place it, but he was drawn to her. He fought the urge to ask her questions and instead concentrated on the fire.

They sat in silence, and soon Harry was close to nodding off. He only opened his eyes slightly when a blanket was laid over him. Out of the corner of his eye he looked to see Brenna tucking it around his shoulders, then moving over and getting a blanket for herself. She sat in a chair, curled up snuggly with her knees drawn up to her chest. She continued to watch the fire, as if scared yet amazed by it.

"Are you afraid of fire?" Harry asked her in a sleepy mumble.

Brenna looked over at him; "Thought you'd nodded off," she said quietly.

Harry shook his head, and propped himself up against the armrest; "Are you?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Brenna replied quietly.

They both looked over as the door opened all the way. Tonks poked her head in, smiled upon seeing the two were alright, and left.

"They don't trust us," Harry said, laughing.

Brenna smiled; "My' grandda, no doubt," she said; "'e's extremely protective of me, bein' 'is little girl an' all..." she sighed, "Suppose it has advantages..."

"What do you do during the fall, anyway?" Harry asked, sitting up. He motioned for her to sit with him.

Brenna looked at him, then got up and sat down, wrapping the blanket around herself; "Mostly read, chores," she replied; "Talkin' to ghosts gets old, though. I heard Grandfather and Mister Dumbledore talking though, the other day, and it seems I might be going somewhere if things happen over the next few weeks..." she looked away.

"Why…where?" Harry asked.

Brenna shrugged; "Ah dunno," she said, looking at him placidly; "Ah just go where I gotta. Besides, where could Ah go?"

It suddenly hit Harry, "Hogwarts," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"What?"

"Hogwarts," Harry said, a littler clearer; "You would go to Hogwarts..."

"It seems reasonable," Brenna mused, Harry," she suddenly said, looking over to the fire with wide, fearful eyes; "Look, the flames... they're... they're _green_!"

Harry looked over, and gasped. The flames were green, "Someone's traveling by Floo Powder," he said.

"Floo? What? Through _Fire_? _No_…" Brenna gasped, disbelieving. She scooted next to Harry, and he felt her hands hold to his arm. Harry continued to watch the fire, and both held their breath as they roared and spat someone out.

The form landed with a thud on the rug, face down and motionless. Harry stared at the head-blonde, soot covered hair.

"M-M-Malfoy?" Harry stuttered, slowly getting up. Brenna, in shock, was still clinging to him, and naturally followed suit. They approached the Malfoy heir, but Harry threw an arm out in front of Brenna when Draco moaned.

"Where am I?" Draco moaned, rolling over.

Harry just stared. The day had gone so well, and now Malfoy was here...


	3. An Unwanted and Unexpected Guest

A/N: revamped and reedited.

disclaimer: I don't own anything. period.

**...---CHAPTER THREE---...**

The arm to Draco's shirt was ripped away completely, and he was obviously in pain. There were bruises all along his arm, his hand was cut, temple was bruised, face pale and thin. In fact, he had become skinnier since Harry had last seen him.

"You're hurt!" Brenna exclaimed, dropping to Draco.

Nervously, Harry did the same. "Why are you here?" Harry asked.

"Easy, 'Arry," Brenna said, then she brushed Draco's hair from his face to see a bleeding temple; "You're safe 'ere, no worries…"

Draco opened his eyes, squinting as he stared at her. Then he looked at Harry; "P-Potter?" he asked; "Should have known you would be the one asking that..." he looked back at Brenna; "Ah, Brenna, right? It's been awhile."

"Yeah, so, how's your da'?" Brenna asked curtly, smirking.

Draco laughed, a harsh rasping voice from his torched throat; "Don't joke about him," he said seriously; "I barely got out."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Death Eaters," Draco said; "Came after my mother and I. She shoved me into the fire, but…" he bit his lip; "She never followed me..."

Harry and Brenna were silent, then Brenna said; "Grandda'll be 'ere soon," she said; "'Arry, let's get 'im off the floor…"

"Just like old times," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes; "Help me up," he said brusquely to Harry.

Harry just stared at him, scowling.

"'Arry, 'elp me lift 'im," Brenna said, helping Draco sit up.

Draco hissed form pain when Harry reached around, and Harry removed his arm to see blood on Draco's back.

"Spell," Draco muttered, cringing; "It's nothing major, but it hurts..."

"Oh yeah, minor buh it's leaves ya 'alf-dead," Brenna mused as she and Harry lifted Draco onto the couch.

Draco cringed again as they laid him down, but never the less was grateful. "Thanks," Draco said to Brenna, though he was looking at Harry; "And just because I'm hurt doesn't give you a cheap shot," Draco said.

Harry held his hands up; "I'm a guest, same as you," he said; "I don't want to get kicked out."

As if on cue, Anestrothea, Dumbledore, Kingsley, Tonks, and a stout aged witch (May) came in, the doors flying open to proceed them.

"What is going on?" Anestrothea boomed, then he saw Draco; "Ach, a _Malfoy_!" he spat; "That can only mean one thing-!"

"No, grandda 'e's hurt!" Brenna exclaimed, waving her hands in the air; "May, 'e needs 'elp!"

May obediently nodded, and rushed over to Draco; "Hmm," she mused, checking an unusually quiet Draco's injuries; "Been Cursed many times over, you have," she said; "He needs to get to a room, sir," she said, looking to Anestrothea.

"Anestrothea," Dumbledore said; "Young Mister Malfoy is a student of mine. Perhaps, though your anger is justified and by no means gratuitous, you might make an exception."

Anestrothea was seething from the intrusion, "Has _he_ come into contact with you?" he asked Brenna snappishly.

"Pa-pa, he's not some diseased dog!" Brenna exclaimed; "Please..."

"How serious are these 'injuries'?" Anestrothea asked, looking to May.

"Fairly serious, milord," May replied.

Anestrothea was silent as he and Draco stared at one another. Draco felt as though he were shrinking under the man's stern gaze. Anestrothea was intimidating; though age had weathered his features he was still as able as a spry thirty year old, his body not going to a fat, flabby wrinkly sight as many his age would have. Part of being elfin- you aged a lot better. So, Anestrothea still retained that powerful, strong air he had always had.

Draco had only met the wizard one time, when he was fourteen. Brenna had gone to deliver a parcel to Dumbledore with him, and while the elder two talked, Draco showed Brenna around the grounds. It wasn't so bad, until Pansy got the idea that Brenna was somehow taking her "boyfriend", though Draco despised the evil girl. In the end, Brenna was attacked and Draco was injured. Anestrothea had never forgiven him. And then there was the fact that Draco's father had been the one to kill several family members, including Brenna's uncle. Anestrothea hated the Malfoys with a passion, as well as every other Death Eater.

"Take him to the room by Mister Shaklebolt's," Anestrothea finally said, looking away and to Dumbledore; "But, if so much as one thing happens, and he is at fault..."

"I assure you, Anestrothea, on my oath as a wizard," Dumbledore said; "Draco will cause no trouble. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco nodded dumbly, wincing as Kingsley and Tonks lifted him room the couch; "Ach, levitate the lad!" May exclaimed, whipping out her wand and levitating Draco.

"Thank you," he groaned, shooting a dark look at Tonks, who had pinched his bruised shoulder when he glared at Kingsley.

When May and Draco, along with Dumbledore and the others, had gone, Brenna and Harry looked at one another.

"'Arry," Brenna said; "Unnerstan', I only met Draco once. I dinna know he would come."

"Sure," Harry said; "My mortal enemy is now in the same house as me!"

"Is he? Ya should get t' know 'im. He's got a lot in common wit' ya, from what Ah gathah…"

Harry was silent; "That bad, huh?" he asked.

Brenna nodded; "Ya 'ave things Draco wishes 'e 'ad. Even though 'e's got riches, fine clothes, an' a pretty noble name, 'e's desperate for family love. 'Is mother cannot come inta contact wit' 'im any more because 'is father doesn't want 'im going soft."

Harry crossed his arms and looked down guiltily; "Okay, I get it," he said, looking at her; "So what, I have to be _nice_ to him?"

Brenna nodded; "Yeah," she said; "If ya say ya name's Harry Potter, ya will."

"Oh, you-" Harry began, but he didn't finish. He smirked, and Brenna smiled.

Draco lay propped up in the bed, in a fresh change of bed clothing and his wounds nearly healed. He stared at the bandage on his hand, then over to the bandage around the arm. He sighed, remembering how Voldemort almost put the mark on him before his mother burst in and whisked him away, only to be struck down...

Draco snapped out of his trance when he heard shouting outside his room. It was followed by a calm, cool, rational voice, then another of the same fashion. Then the shouting picked up again. Draco sighed and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. Though he was looking up at cement, he saw the sky, filled with stars and beautifully dark.

The door opened, and Dumbledore poked his head in; "Ah, so you're awake," the old wizard said, walking in; "Mind if I have a word?"

"By all means," Draco said, waiting as Dumbledore sat in the bedside chair; "Not like I have a choice though, is it?"

"You should be grateful, Draco, that Anestrothea didn't act otherwise," Dumbledore said; "He was considering having you thrown out a moment ago-"

"But you stepped in and saved me, _again_."

Dumbledore leaned back; "What happened, Draco?" he asked.

"What do you think happened?" Draco snapped; "Sorry, it's just..." he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"I understand, Draco," Dumbledore said; "No one should go through what you have been forced to endure. But you know, Delgrishire Estate is a wonderful place to heal. I must say you're lucky you already know Brenna. She helped woo Anestrothea into letting you stay. Now, I'm not expecting you to act invisible, but I'm warning you now. Around Anestrothea, keep that very opinionated mouth of yours closed."

Draco nodded; "Now," Dumbledore said, "Your food should be by momentarily. This is now your room, Draco, and I'm sure we'll have more of your belongings shortly."

"How will you get them?" Draco asked.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkle with mischief, "Oh, there are ways, my boy, there are ways," he rose then, "Now, I'll leave you. Get some rest, tomorrow should be a promising day for you."

Dumbledore walked to the door, and as he stepped out he heard Draco say quietly; "Thank you, Professor..."

Dumbledore smiled, nodded to the teen, then closed the door and left to the library to conduct more research.


	4. Just to Make Rounds

A/N: revamped and reedited

-----**CHAPTER FOUR**-----

Brenna wandered down the halls, hastily tying a leather strap around her left hand, her right already wrapped. She was going to the river today, and since she couldn't stand gloves these were her last options. She then ran and put on her boots, careful not to disturb the still sleeping residents. She through on the protective magically lightened and feather light chain mail tunic before throwing a black sweater over it. Thankfully, it was barely noticeable, and Brenna quickly pulled her hair back. She put on her steel cross made from nails, a ward her grandfather gave her after her father's demise. Brenna sighed, and then reminded herself she'd moved one, perked up, and walked down to the stairs.

Brenna went into the kitchen, just in time to watch Molly Weasley's morning routine of bewitching pots, pans, and foods to cook themselves. She set the table, brewed tea and coffee, said a quick "hello, dear" to Brenna, the rushed to the garden. Brenna shook her head, and grabbed a seal-away mug of tea. She sipped on it as she walked outside, her boots clicking amiably on the cobblestone path that followed the slope of the hill.

To Brenna's surprise, the fields were empty and vacant. On occasion, she would see a centaur or animal run across from one forest to the other, or a bird dive down for its prey. But today it was uneasily quiet. She knew that the estate was a natural host to all kinds of things, be it ghosts, or bugs, and there was always something there. But today, all was quiet. There weren't even the numerous and delightful bird calls.

Brenna considered turning back, the silence was eerie to her and she became tense. No, she thought, I have to at least check the river, make sure nothing's wrong. Drinking the last of her tea before setting the mug on the last bench she passed, Brenna went into the forest.

The forest shaded the dirt path beautifully in the morning sun. Brenna sighed, enjoying the feeling of peace. The birds had picked up their tunes again, and tension had decreased. Brenna found herself jumping along the hollowed, fallen logs, and dancing around in the haze of the morning. She soon left the path, going amongst the trees for a change of scenery. Soon, the sound of the running water filled her ears.

Brenna smiled as she came to the river. The spot she came to was a familiar one. Large rocks jutted out of the moderately flowing water, creating pools where small fish inhabited. The river averaged ten feet wide, but there was a crossing point with three logs tied together across to form a bridge. Brenna turned, watching the bend worriedly. Mistakes had taught her to look ahead. But, when nothing seemed out of the ordinary, Brenna continued to it, rounding it and then screaming. Her hands eventually covered her mouth as her eyes stared at the scene, wide with fear and shock.

Lying on the rived bed, half-way in the water, was a dead stag. Its throat was slashed, and knees bloodied from a crippling blow. All along the sides were long trails of claw marks. The horns were snapped off, leaving only stubs. The stag was a magical one, pallid grey and not so common. There was blood everywhere, tainting the small pool red and then floating away with the waters.

Brenna took a step back, but bumped into something-tall and warm. She turned around slowly, stepping back and gasping. There, standing behind her, was a tall, black centaur. His dreadlock hair fell to his broad shoulders, and his horse-half was that of an elegant black stallion, tail flowing to almost touch the ground. Brenna's eyes slowly traveled up to meet the centaur's steel blue.

"Ah-Ah-" Brenna stuttered, stepping backwards. In her haste, she tripped and fell to the ground.

"Elf-witch," the centaur said, in a low, raspy voice. He stepped toward her, and Brenna got up and backed into a tree; "What have you done?"

"Ah-Ah found the st-stag as it w-was!" Brenna said, her voice rising in fear.

"You've killed a sacred Shadow Beast," the centaur said icily, glaring at her.

"N-no, Ah'm on the same page as you! Ah-Ah wouldn't hurt one, not even if Ah was forced to!"

The centaur watched her in silence, sizing her up. He brushed a braided lock from his face, sniffing the air. He turned around, and waved his arm back behind him. Two more centaurs, one a young foal, the other an older male, stepped out. The centaur then turned back to Brenna, who was trying to suppress the shaking in her legs.

"Elf-witch, tell me false and you will be slain," Centaur said; "Are you offspring of Anestrothea?"

"Ah... Ah am," Brenna said, not knowing whether to regret her answer or thank the heavens for truth.

The centaur simply nodded, and the other two came around.

* * *

"Well, where could she be?"

"I'm sure she's doing chores, Malfoy. Shouldn't you be in bed or something? Perhaps drowning yourself in the bath?"

"Oh, ha-ha Potter," Draco sneered; "Come on, where could she be? Where are all the others, anyway? I've seen the bloody pictures of those elves everywhere. And how come the portraits don't move? That's a bit odd, wouldn't you think? Are you even paying attention to me? Hello, Boy Wonder!"

Harry had since given up listening and had returned to reading his book. Draco had wandered from his room and found the first person he could- Harry. Harry had been quietly enjoying breakfast in the study, trying to catch up on an essay. Now he groaned as Draco continued talking.

"Look, Draco, shut up, will you?" Harry said irately, turning on the blonde; "I don't know what kind of chores Brenna has, I don't know why the portraits don't move, and the reason why all of the other elves aren't here is because you're F-ing father and those damn Death Eaters slaughtered them all! And stop calling me Boy Wonder, _Ferret_."

Draco simply crossed his arms and scowled; "Well, blatant you," he said, "I had no say in what my father did, I only followed his shadow. Thought you knew that. And the reason why I'm talking so much is because the only human contact I've had are from people in hoods and a few house elves! I'm desperate for conversation! Even if it is with you he added with a sigh, walking over and looking out a window; "So," he said, "Any more Weasley's coming, aside from the mother and Weasel?"

"His name is Ron, and her name is Mrs. Weasley, to you," Harry replied curtly, "And I'm not sure..."

"Wonderful," Draco said; "And, Granger-"

"Hermione..."

"What ever... will she be here as well?"

"Who knows," Harry said, turning the page.

"Well, don't be cheerful," Draco said; "I'm just glad to be out of that prison."

"Oh? You had everything in the world, Malfoy, why would you want to leave?"

Draco turned, looking at Harry with the "I-can't-believe-you-don't-know- why" look; "You serious wonder why?" he asked, "I'll tell you. That manor was dark, dank, and at night people came whenever they felt like it. You'd wake up to screams, voices pleading for either forgiveness or release," he sighed, and looked back outside; "The sun is beautiful," he mused; "The curtains were always drawn whenever _he_ was around..."

"Sorry to hear that," Harry said, turning and looking at the blonde briefly before they could make eye contact; "But that's still no reason to still be the pompous jackass that you are," he commented as he continued reading.

"It's my image, can't let that go, can I?" Draco asked smugly, smoothing his hair back; "That would be like you trying to lose your scar."

Harry laughed dryly; "Yeah, what a dream that is," he said.

"I honestly don't know how you stand it," Draco said, walking away from the window; "It is the ultimate blemish, isn't it?" he sneered as he left.

Harry snarled and slammed the book closed, glaring over to the open doorway where Draco had left. He closed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed; "For a roof over your head, keep your mouth shut," he told himself as he rose and set the book down. Harry walked out; "Hmm, perhaps I'll see if Ron's up. Might be able to get some flying in for Quidditch..."

* * *

"Ya nevah 'ave me alive!" Brenna exclaimed suddenly, ducking and rolling underneath the centaur. She rolled out to the side, got to her feet, but just as she got to a good run she was lifted off the ground by the older, tawny male centaur by her arms.

"Easy, elf-witch," the tawny male said gently, trotting back over to the black stallion and promptly dropping her. Brenna landed in a crouch, taking a handful of leaf litter in her hand. She gazed up at the centaur, brushing stray hair from her face.

The centaur gazed at her, then chuckled; "I would not risk the life of my herd harming one of Anestrothea's, especially since you are the last of his own," he said; "What brings you this deep into the forest, away from your citadel?"

"First off, what's ya name?" Brenna asked, getting up and dropping the fist of litter.

The centaur chuckled again; "I am Eamnonn, and this is my son, Cathmor-" the tawny-male nodded; "And my grandson, Brice-" the teenage-foal was stooped over the dead stag, examining the cuts along its throat.

"Eamnonn," Brice said, looking up gravely; "It's been killed by blades..."

"Ah'm unarmed," Brenna said; "Look, anythin' odd pass through lately?"

"No," Eamnonn said, walking over to his grandson; "Until now," he mused; "What kind of blade, Brice?"

"Not sure," Brice said, getting up; "I will take it away," he picked the carcass up, slung it over his horse back, nodded to them all, then jumped the river and ran off.

"Ah dunno know what could've-" Brenna began, but they all heard a sound resembling a tree falling to the ground. Everyone froze.

"Eamnonn," Cathmor said uneasily, taking a step back; "Something comes... from the west..." he took another step, his hind hoof going into the water.

"Calm mind, Cathmor," Eamnonn said, his steel eyes darting everywhere.

Brenna looked around, backing over to Cathmor; "Gimme ya staff," she said quietly.

"What? Why?"

"Just give it ta me!"

Cathmor wordlessly tossed the stout, short pole to Brenna, and she caught it with minor difficulty. Brenna held it firmly in her hands, inhaling the exhaling slowly to calm her nerves.

Then it came.


	5. Inundus and Centaurs

**A/N:** revamped and reeditted

**-----CHAPTER FIVE-----**

Harry walked into the kitchen, to see Ron pouring through the pantry; "Up and already eating," Harry mused, startling the jumpy redhead. When Ron did appear, he had several boxes in his hands and an apple in his mouth. He saw it was Harry, rolled his eyes and said something, spat the apple out, and then set the boxes down on the counter island.

"So, have a decent night tending to the 'king of ferrets'?" Ron asked idly with a chuckle, opening a small jar and pulling out what looked like a chocolate strawberry. He bit into it, then grimaced as he spat the item out; "Ugh, a trick jar!" he exclaimed, wiping his mouth.

Harry laughed, holding to his side as he sat down. Ron sneered and mimicked his laughter, putting the box away with the others; "The apple'll do me," he mused, picking the apple up from the island.

Harry wiped his eyes; "I can't stand Malfoy, and it was all I could do to not pounce and hex the life from him," he replied.

"Well, for a roof over your head, I suppose," Ron mused, finishing the apple; "Still, wouldn't hurt to put the git in his place."

"That's what I'm thinking," Harry said; "Come on, Ron. Let's get on our brooms and practice for Quidditch."

"What could we use as a snitch, then?" Ron asked, looking to his friend quizzically.

"You could use this possessed marble!"

Ron and Harry looked to the door to see Remus Lupin walk in, gritting his teeth as his hands clutched something until his knuckles turned white. His fisted hands jerked around, and he finally clutched whatever it was to his chest and sighed heavily.

"Let us help you, Professor," Harry said, then he paused; "Possessed marble?"

"Yes, a little ditty of a joke of Tonks'," Lupin said through gritted teeth. He muttered something, and his fist quit shaking slowly; "Oh, thank heaven," he sighed.

Ron stared at him oddly; "Sure you're alright, Professor?" he asked uneasily.

"Oh, splendid, now, anyways," Lupin replied smoothly, tossing a small, blue orb to Harry.

Harry snatched it out of the air, and looked at it. There were swirls of smoke in the marble, and Harry rolled it around in his palm as he watched he smoke seem to stay a cloud near the top and to the right.

"What's inside it?" Harry asked, looking at Lupin briefly.

"Ah, Dragon's breath, if Tonks told me correctly," Lupin, looking up thoughtfully; "Yes, dragon's smoke from an old Hungarian Horntail..." he looked over at the open pantry; "Already tried, Ron?" he asked, smirking, "Anestrothea jinxed it all this morning before he left. All food's to be delivered at meal times. Sorry, no snacking."

"Hey, I got an apple," Ron said.

"Who's to say it was an apple?" Lupin asked, an eyebrow raised mockingly as he half-grinned.

Ron suddenly looked pale and grim, and Lupin and Harry broke out laughing.

"I'm only joking, Ron," Lupin said, chuckling; "Go on now, before you two cause any trouble, though it follows you..."

"Alright, see you Professor," Harry said, and he and Ron left the kitchen.

"So, where are our brooms, Mate?" Ron asked, looking around.

"Well…" Harry said, snapping his finger before looking around.

Two house elves appeared seemingly out of no where, bearing two firebolts. Ron gazed at he elf that held on out to him, and Harry took the other; "It won't bite, Ron, it's just a broom," Harry said; "Oh, Anestrothea got them for us, kind of a peace gift or something."

Ron nodded, his mouth cracking into a giant of a smile as he took the broom; "Ooh, come on Harry, let's try 'em out!" he said excitedly, thanking the house elf then quickly before running out the front door. Harry laughed, and followed. Ron had already mounted his broom, and was off. Harry quickly followed.

"This is amazing!" Ron exclaimed, whooping as he did flips.

Harry hovered in the air, looking around. They were high enough to where they got a good view of everything. He squinted towards the forest, his eyes following the path; "Hey, where's that go?" Harry asked.

"What?" Ron asked, flying to beside him.

Harry pointed down the path, then streaked off towards it, "Wait Harry, this normally isn't a good thing!" Ron shouted, then, groaning, flew after his friend.

Harry landed by the bench, and picked up the abandoned mug. Ron landed beside him, and crossed his arms; "Is that all?" he asked; "A mug, Harry? Really...!"

"No, this is Brenna's," Harry said, looking it over; "This doesn't seem like her," he mused, looking around. Brenna was no where in sight.

"Harry, maybe she had to find something and figured she'd come back and get it," Ron said; "Come on, we can look for her on _our firebolts_!"

Harry rolled his eyes; "Something doesn't feel right, Ron," he said uneasily, his eyes roaming the wide grass fields, "We need to get in the air..." He slowly mounted his broom.

Ron did the same, and soon both were once more high up and looking around; "You're starting to freak me out, Harry," Ron said worriedly, jerking around.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, eyes fixed on the forest; "Look! A centaur! Look, look what it's got on its back, a deer!"

Ron looked as well, and exclaimed, "Blimey, that's no ordinary stag! Come on, let's check it out!"

But Harry was already jetting off toward the centaur.

* * *

Brice halted when he saw the two teens jet over and hovered a few feet from him. He stood still, looking from one to the other. The redheaded was tense and nervous, staring at the stag, horrified by its injuries and fantasizing upon its demise. The raven-haired one, with the scar, was staring intently at Brice. Brice sensed something about the human, something powerfully unnatural that made his blood run cold out of fear induced respect. 

"What happened?" Harry asked, still gazing at Brice.

Brice made no move to reply, only stood still. "Ah, Harry, it can't understand you anyway," Ron said; "He's probably too young..."

"I am of age," Brice said, stomping his foot; "What brings two wizards here? Unless you are guests of the Elf-Wizard, your presence is forbidden..." his gaze steadily grew to a glare as he became bolder and braver.

"Yeah, we're guests here," Ron said; "Seen a girl anywhere? She left her mug."

Harry waved the mug in the air, but stopped and froze when they all heard a low, mournful call of an Aurgurey (A/N: an Aurgurey is a greenish-black vulture that's undersized and follows carnivorous creatures. It calls just as the carnivore is on the prowl, or about to make a kill).

Brice suddenly turned around, setting the stag down in the grass; "What was that?" Ron asked, looking around.

"The Death Bird," Brice gasped. He looked to the teens, then back at the forest. Biting his lip, he shouted and charged, plowing through the underbrush to find why the alarm had risen.

"After him!" Harry said.

Harry easily dodged amongst the trees, but Ron soon found himself skimming the tops of the forest, barely keeping track of both Harry and the centaur.

Harry followed after Brice, the centaur glancing back. Brice never the less ran to the river, skidding and slipping on the rocks. He jumped to the other side, and still the wizards tailed after him, Ron having found a clearing and joining Harry in the pursuit at near-ground level.

Harry heard the Aurgurey call out again, long and hollow sounding. He inwardly cringed, but continued thinking on flying as he made a direct sharp turn.

Brice stopped, his hoofs leaving indentations in the ground. Ron and Harry had to pull back in wide arches to stop, and flew up to beside Brice on either side of the centaur.

Before them, in the muddy river bank, was a single, large footprint of what Harry believed to be a large cat. Brice bent down, carefully tracing it. He stood up, and looked at Harry intently.

"We're coming," Harry said, "Our friend could be in trouble."

"What... made _that_?" Ron asked, hovering over the footprint.

"An Inundu," Brice said grimly, "A giant panther cat."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks of horror and fear; "Okay, Ron," Harry said after a silence, "we need to find Brenna. We'll take the North. And," he paused; "Um, sorry, your name?"

"Brice," Brice said; "And I must warn my herd. Safety to you both," and with that, the centaur was gone.

* * *

"Eamnonn, look out! BEHIND YOU!" 

Eamnonn barely dodged the Inundu, and Brenna braced herself, staff in her hands. The large panther was brown like the forest foliage; it's even browner eyes glistening with the thrill of the hunt. Its large head turned slowly to face Cathmor and her. Cathmor took a step back, getting into the water. Cathmor walked over to Brenna, bracing himself and breathing through his nose. His hoof pawed at the shallows, and his shoulders dropped with his head as he spread his arms out and fingers spread. With a shout, Eamnonn charged.

And in an instant, he was struck down.

"Cathmor!" Eamnonn shouted.

Brenna screamed, stifling it with her hand

The Aurgurey called again, the morose bird finally making its appearance by taking its perch in one of the conifer trees.

Cathmor's chest was opened with one swiped of the Inundu's claws. Gasping, his four legs buckled, and the centaur fell amidst leaves and his own blood.

The Inundu let out a low, pleased growl, its fangs glistening with saliva as it hungrily gazed around.

"Eamnonn, get help!" Brenna exclaimed; "'Urry, go!"

Eamnonn looked at her, but the urgency of her voice told him otherwise. Against his own wishes, he left.

The Inundu watched the centaur gallop away, eager to chase. But its reddening eyes saw Brenna, the frail looking girl bending and gripping the staff. Her eyes shown with fear and untold worry, but courage fueled the fire. She smirked, and the Inundu turned fully to face her, tail swishing back and forth as it panted with wanting. It had not eaten in a long time, and the girl would be an added bonus.

"Come on, ya filthy cat," Brenna breathed, gripping the pole. She shouted, and throwing the staff out she ran for the panther.

The Inundu snarled, whipping his claws at her. Brenna jumped, the pole crashing over the giant cat's left shoulder. The Inundu snarled again, its claws lashing out and cutting Brenna across her back. Brenna shouted, and lost her balance. She fell on her side, and slowly rose.

The smell of blood wafted through the air and the Inundu was sent into a frenzy of bloodlust. Growling, it turned to her again, eyes a crazed crimson and fangs dripping with blood from its bleeding gums. Claws dug into leaf litter, and a low growl filled the clearing.

Brenna stared at the maddened animal, adjusting her grip_. Ah wilna win at thess rate_. She thought. _Grandda'll kill me, but I gotta…_ Sighing, Brenna closed her eyes.

The Inundu was near striking when it froze in curiosity. Brenna's body took on a faint glow, like coming from the ground, traveling up her legs and finally through her hands. The pole glowed, the tips lighting up in white flames. Brenna opened her eyes. They were blue-ice, cold, piercing blue.

The Inundu charged with a snarl, lunging. Brenna threw the staff out just in time, and the paws came down upon it. Brenna found herself beneath the beast, the Inundu trying to get to her neck with its fangs. Brenna fought it off, the glow on her flickering. She rolled away, and jumped up. Again, the Inundu turned and charged for her. She dodged, but the claws slashed down her leg, leaving a long, jagged cut from the middle of her thigh to halfway down her calf. Brenna screamed, falling in front of a tree. She bent down on her good leg, and held the staff up as the Inundu walked back, readying for another charge. The beast growled, then did. Brenna bowed her head and closed her eyes, the flame on the outstretched end changing into a spear point.

It ripped into the Inundu's breast just as it came within a breath's distance. The Inundu let out a gurgled moan, and then fell. It fell onto Brenna, who allowed the pole to fall from her hands as it penetrated the beast. Too tired, she went down beneath the body of Inundu, quickly falling unconscious as she returned to normal and the pole was once more a normal pole.

* * *

Harry and Ron rounded the bend; "Good God Almighty!" Ron exclaimed in shock, landing. Harry jumped from his broom, and while Ron ran to the centaur, he went to the dead Inundu. He looked around, and saw the Aurgurey. It let out another soft call, then silently flew away. Harry then saw Brenna's arm, from her elbow up covered by the panther. 

"Ron, Ron, Brenna's underneath this thing!" Harry exclaimed; "Forget the centaur, it's dead, so get over here!" He began shoving against the shoulder, but all he could do was get the panther to roll over slightly.

Ron rushed over, and together the two managed to roll the beast from their friend. Ron saw the poll jutting from the panther's breast, and turned away to gag. Harry too grimaced, but swallowed as he bent to check Brenna. Her front was covered in the panther's blood, but some was her own.

"Brenna?" Harry asked, lifting her up. Brenna limply rolled into his arms, and Harry stood, cradling her; "Oh man, what do I do?" Harry mumbled, "Ron! She's bleeding everywhere!"

Ron gagged again, a dry heave, wiped his mouth, sighed, then came over; "Ah man, look at that!" he exclaimed; "All along her leg, too! Oy, and her back!" he paused, "We can't take her between the brooms, can we?"

"Too risky," Harry said, kicking the dead Inundu and walking away; "Damn it where's Brice? We need him now!"

"I'll get help, Harry," Ron said, "That is, if you're able to-"

"Go, and hurry!" Harry said, bending down. He laid Brenna down on a stone by the river, and watched as Ron flew away. Harry returned his attention to Brenna, "What do I do, what do I do?" he asked himself, looking around.

"... Use... the water... clean her... wounds..."

Harry's head snapped over to the centaur they thought for dead. Cathmor's head was turned towards Harry, a slight smile on his bloodied face. Cathmor tried to rise onto his side, but found it impossible.

"Wha... what?" Harry asked shakily.

"The water," Cathmor said, coughing, "From the... pools... where the fish reside... clean her wounds with it..." he coughed again, a blood bubble popping at the corner of his mouth.

"You... you're..."

Cathmor shook his head; "Death is but a second step, wizard," he said, taking in a raspy breath; "It's just... a second... step... remember... water where... the fish... re...side..." he drew a weary breath, and his eyes closed.

Harry stared at Cathmor, unsure of what he was seeing. A light formed form no where, green sunrays coming from above, landing around Cathmor. Beings Harry could place came from the forests, shadowy ghosts who left no mark of their comings. They encircled the centaur, the beams grew brighter. Harry was forced to cover his eyes and look away, and when he did look back... there was nothing but a dead Inundu and signs of a scuffle.

Harry got up, and went over to the first inhabited pool he could find. Taking his shirt off, he soak it, then rushed back over to Brenna. He dabbed at her forehead and face, gently and slowly cleaning the blood away. He cleaned her arms, and delicately ran over her back. He nervously cleaned her leg, then ran and slung the soaked shirt on a rock. He then went back to Brenna. She was breathing better now, and a flicker of hope dashed across Harry's face.

Harry looked around. The Inundu was still lying on its back, spread-eagled with the pole jutting from it grimly. To think Brenna had it in her to do such a violent thing, even if it were in self defense. Though people changed when acting out on desperation. Harry shuddered, but turned immediately back to Brenna as he heard a cough. Brenna coughed violently, and Harry patted her back as he supported her; "Easy Brenna, please, easy," he said.

Brenna coughed again, then looked up at Harry with hooded eyes; "Harry?" she asked, "Wha... wha' happened?"

"Um, let's see, finding you under a giant cat and a dead centaur was a surprise," he said, smiling slightly; "Gave me a scare, anyway."

"I'm fine," Brenna said, coughing.

"Yes, of course you are," Harry said sarcastically; "Ron's getting help."

"I sent Eamnonn..."

"Who?"

"A centaur... oh no, tha tawny one, Cathmor, 'e's not tha one who died, was 'e?" she looked at Harry fearfully.

Harry shrugged; "Dunno any names, but a blonde one just got whisked away."

"Oh no," Brenna said, covering her face.

"What?"

"Oh, nothin', Harry..."

"...What?"

"... Where's your shirt, anyway?"


	6. Hermione's Plan

A/N: revamped and reedited

**-----CHAPTER SIX-----**

A week after The Inundu Incident and everything had settled down. Draco was soon taken from the Estate when his mother came and got him, saying they were leaving the Manor for good. After a test that proved her to be truthful, they left. Anestrothea had secretly cast spells on them both, and they would soon forget the location of the estate.

Ron and Harry found teaching Brenna how to fly and play Quidditch was of top priority, and so the three spent many of their days flying over the fields. Brenna openly admitted it wasn't fun, but over time she got the hang of flying and became rather good at it, though she was still clumsy with Quidditch.

Harry took to Brenna with each passing day, more so that her simple acts kept him laughing and she was so adamantly curious and uplifting. They spent the nights talking late into the twilight hours, and sometimes Harry wondered if she was trustworthy enough.

Harry began to notice subtle hints of Brenna's differences. She could tell when he was upset or angry, and sometimes fed from that. She was the same with everyone else around her. It was odd, Harry knew, but it was also a good thing because you couldn't hide anything. Another thing was her fear of fire. Though she denied it, it was obvious. Harry thought it might have something to do with an accident she was involved in, but he did not question it.

But all good things shattered after they got their next issues of the _Daily Prophet._

On the front page, it read "Former Hogwarts Student Attacked by Death Eaters". Angelina Johnson, who had played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with Harry for years, had been attacked during a Chuddley Cannons try-out. The Dark Mark had been sent into the sky over the scene, with the words "A gift, for Harry Potter" in bold brazen letters beneath it.

"This is an outrage!" Tonks exclaimed; "It says she was going to make the team, too!"

"Who cares about the Cannons?" Lupin retorted; "This is a former student we're talking about!"

Harry sat there in the study in silence, Brenna sitting on the armrest and rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. The attack had been because of him, and him alone. Brenna was feeling the guilt, though not as much, and she hated it. Harry didn't deserve it, and he was beating himself dead over it.

"Look, tha only thing wrong 'ere is da fact ya talkin' as if et's 'Arry's fault!" she suddenly exclaimed, getting up from the chair and causing everyone to grow silent; "Stop actin' like et's all 'is doin' as well! Harry couldn't control what happened, 'e 'ad no idea et was gonna happen, so just stop actin' like 'e cast the bloody curse already!"

Harry stared at her, stunned. Hadn't those statements been running through his head only moments before? Harry rubbed his eyes wearily. No, Brenna was just another common thinker, only she couldn't keep her opinions to herself at times.

Lupin and Tonks stared at her. Dumbledore and Anestrothea were both sitting in armchairs, carefully reading the articles. Though Dumbledore had looked up at Brenna's outburst, Anestrothea only kept reading. He paid it no mind, accustomed to them, though few and far between.

"Sorry," Tonks said, guilt ridden; "Didn't know we sounded so bad."

"Only to be expected with such a shock," Anestrothea mused, flipping to the next page; "Brenna, go and find Mister Shacklebolt, if you could. Harry, there's someone who's here to see you. They just arrived," he looked up when everyone looked at him oddly; "I know what goes on in this estate," he stated.

Harry got up, and he and Brenna left the study. "Ooh, the nerve!" Brenna exclaimed, pulling at her hair.

"Brenna, we all knew Angelina, so it's a big shock for everyone," Harry said.

"No, this isn't 'bout that," Brenna said, "The fact o' the matta, Harry, is that et finally happened," she turned to him; "We're in for et, the'll be more attacks with each new member to that stupid cult of nutcases."

"Don't say that," Harry said.

"Ah'm only voicing mah opinion," Brenna said. She paused; "Well, Ah'm going to find Kinglsey. Later, Harry."

Harry watched her go, then went to the foyer. "Hermione!" he exclaimed upon seeing the back of the familiar, brown-curly-haired head. Hermione turned, and smiled as they hugged.

"Harry, how are you?" Hermione asked as they parted.

"Fine," Harry replied; "What's got you here, anyway Hermione?"

"Well, actually," Hermione paused; "I came to discuss some things Harry. Professor Dumbledore thinks I'm here to visit, but the real reason is... The DA... I'm thinking we should get it back together..." she said in a whisper.

Harry stared at her; "Hermione," he began, "We go to school in two weeks, and you're dawning this on me now?"

"Listen, two weeks in more than enough," Hermione said; "And with Ron being here and all, the three of us can get everything planned away in no time!"

"Uh, actually," Harry said, "There's someone else, Hermione..."

Hermione eyed him; "What?"

"I'm saying, it's probably not just going to be the three of us," Harry replied; "Brenna, she's coming to Hogwarts for the year, and-"

"Brenna who?" Hermione asked.

"Someone call mah name?"

Hermione and Harry turned as Brenna walked down the steps; "Oh, is this Hermione?" she asked Harry, walking over to them; "Name's Brenna, charmed," she shook Hermione's hand.

"Yeah, Hermione, this is Brenna," Harry said, "Her grandfather, Anestrothea, owns this property."

Hermione was busy studying Brenna, and Brenna felt like she was under a bright spotlight; "You're a..." Hermione began; "You're an elf!"

Brenna stared at her, cautiously stepping behind Harry; "How-did she know tha'?" she whispered frantically to him.

"She's too smart for her own good," Harry whispered back, chuckling; "So, Hermione, where are you bags?"

"Oh, a charming little elf with the best manners-"

"Elmore," Brenna coughed, looking around the foyer as if interested in the artwork.

"Well, he and another offered to carry my things up that awfully big staircase," Hermione said.

"The steps move," Harry commented dryly.

"Oh, it was a nice gesture!" Hermione said, thoroughly exasperated.

"Geez, take a sip o' tea, Hermione!" Brenna said in a joking tone, smilng; "Granted Ah've been here a long time, and so's Harry! We're a bit used to it!"

"Well, I never," Hermione said, crossing her arms; "Any way, there are more pressing matters at hand."

"Well, et's sundown, so mah study's open," Brenna said; "Jus' go call Ron from the kitchen an' ya kin get started on the whole "DA" thing, er what eveah ya call et."

Hermione looked at her, and then looked at Harry quizzically. Harry smiled sweetly, holding his hands out to Brenna as if presenting a present. Brenna crossed her arms and sighed, and Harry and Hermione laughed.

"Inside joke," Hermione said.

Brenna rolled her eyes, then went to an open archway leading from the foyer; "Ron!" she shouted; "Come on, an' tha's the trick jar!"

Brenna walked back to Harry and Hermione, and Ron walked out; "'Mione!" he exclaimed, smiling and hugging his friend.

"Oh, they look awfully cute together," Brenna mused quietly.

Harry laughed; "Give them time, trust me," He replied.

"Well, let's get going," Hermione said when she and Ron parted; "We've got a long night ahead of us."

"Wait, what's going on?" Ron asked.

"We'll explain on the way," Harry said.

---

The fire burned brightly, the glow mingling with the light from the candles stationed all around the room. Books and scrolls were brought from their places, some eliciting dust.

Brenna's brow furrowed as she studied a map of the Hogwarts grounds; "Ya say that fa now, you're usin' the Room of Requirement, right?"

"Yeah," Ron said, closing a book and writing several things down.

Brenna nodded; "So, say we got more than eighty people, would et work then?"

"I suppose," Harry mused.

"I mean, it's a 'Room of Requirement'," Hermione said; "Honestly, we should be looking up spells..."

"Never had to use a wand in my life," Brenna said; "Mine's for show and … yeah…" she paused when all eyes were on her; "Well, we can't let anyone know there's still a couple o' us left. Too risky," she sat down; "But, this one hallway, tha third floor, why's it off limits?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks, "Well," Harry said, "Something used to be guarded their by a three-headed dog, but, now," he shrugged; "Guess nothing's there now that that was taken care of..." he went back to reading.

Brenna looked at them all; "Law, it was the philosopher's stone!" she said, "Jus' because I live in tha middle a nowhere doesn't mean I don't know some stuff," she paused; "Anyway, there's a couple o' rooms here that're prettah big..."

"How big?" Harry asked, him and Hermione leaning over.

"Eh, this 'ne's nearly a hundred feet long, nearly seventy feet wide," Brenna said, "Least that's what the scale says..."

"It wouldn't fit!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Ah," Brenna said, tapping her temple; "But think, Hermione, another 'Room of Requirement', or at least a room along that line."

"Of course," Hermione said, "We... whenever it got too risky, we could use this room as well!"

"No, because Filch," Ron said, piping up.

"Who?" Brenna asked, looking around at them.

"Argus Filch, the bloody Caretaker of Hogwarts," Ron sighed, setting his book down; "He can smell stuff like this from a mile away. And his cat, 'Miss Norris'," he shuddered.

"I hate cats," Brenna mused, looking over the maps again.

"I have a cat," Hermione said testily, crossing her arms.

"Well, tha's somethin' we'll never agree on, is et?" Brenna asked, looking up at Hermione placidly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and stormed over to a bookshelf; "What?" Brenna asked.

Ron and Harry suppressed laughter, doubling over in their seats and covering their mouths with their mouths. Brenna rolled her eyes and kept reading the map; "A few of theses towers," she mused, "No," she muttered, then she shook her head.

"What are you thinking up?" Harry asked, looking at her.

"Well," Brenna said, "Et'll come 'round tha' we'll have ta hold a few duels... so," she shrugged; "Jus' lookin' fa empty rooms."

"Wait, duels?" Ron asked, his head snapping up and looking at her.

"Well," Brenna said; "Ya mentioned that some o' the students don't get along, right? An' with all those Death Eater children in Slytherin, well," she shrugged; "There's bound to be turmoil, Ron. I'm on'y thinking ahead."

Ron shook his head, and kept reading. They spent the next hour in silence, pacing around the room in thought, skimming over texts and scrolls. Ron fell asleep, slumped over the table. Hermione too began to doze off, Harry as well. Brenna's eyes even started drooping.

But all were brought from their post-slumber as they heard a mighty crash coming from the foyer. Harry and Brenna bolted from the seats out of pure instinct, Ron and Hermione snapping to attention. The four rushed to the stairs, running down halfway and stopping. They all looked around, and finally their gazes came to rest on the new figure in the foyer. Hermione and Ron gasped, while Harry and Brenna only stood and watched in awe.

"Is that a... a..." Harry began.

"Yeah," Brenna said quietly; "Meet Kasimir Galstoph..."

But Harry could only see the form of a man. Kasimir was a vampire, pale, sickly skin, narrowed, long face and bony fingers that clutched around a black cloak. His black hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, the end falling hallway down his waste. His black eyes glittered. The man was tall, lean and a definite threat if allowed too much freedom. At least, Harry thought that.

Anestrothea, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, and Moody were all there, blocking any way of the vampire from entering. Anestrothea stepped from them, hand held up slightly. Anestrothea and Kasimir stared at one another, gazes of distrust, but a fine line of respect was evident.

"Kasimir Galstoph," Anestrothea said, crossing his arms; "What do you need that brings you so far from your home?"

"My home," Kasimir replied in broken English. His voice was deep, drawling, but edgy from years traveling and living in the cold; "My home, iz not a home... I bring news from... de Council..."

"Oh," Anestrothea said, as if uninterested; "And what do they have to say?"

Kasimir inhaled a raspy breath; "Ting's are growing verse," he said; "Dis... dis Dark Lord de people here speak of... he has made a mark in Russia..."

"Really," Anestrothea said.

"He has keeled nearly ten villagers," Kasimir said; "And... enlisted certain members of mien own..."

"Well, sorry to hear that," Anestrothea said; "It's late, Kasimir, you're lucky I was awake or I would have..."

"No, you vould have listened anyvay," Kasimir said, smiling a thin grin. His fangs showed slightly; "It's apparent your ranks are... small, to say," he looked around, but his gaze finally rested on Brenna; "Having to resort to... recruiting young offspring..."

Brenna shivered as Kasimir stared at her. His eyes were filled with lust for blood— he was ravenous and hadn't eaten, she could tell. Thankfully, so could Anestrothea.

"Children are part of life, Kasimir," Anestrothea said, redirecting the Vampire's attention to him; "It can't be avoided that they overhear certain things."

Moody looked at Harry with his magical eye, waving them off with his hand; "Come on," Hermione said, catching the gesture.

"No way," Ron breathed, eyes wide as he watched on.

"I vas... approached myself," Kasimir mused, his white-less eyes looking around the foyer; "Dey... de Death Eaters... asked eef I knew anyt'ing, any individual who might be in line with you... I told dem 'no', and din dey intercepted von of your coalitions... a... a verevolf... boot not de Lupin we know... anodder, de von dat gave him his condition..."

Anestrothea nodded; "McBett," he mused.

"And din... McBett..." Kasimir breathed in deeply, as if fighting for breath; "He... how vill I say dis... he _vratted_ you out..."

Ron suppressed a snicker at this. Brenna kicked out at him, catching his knee. Ron groaned, but it was stifled by Hermione's hand over his mouth.

"Dey din attacked de Quidditch girl," Kasimir said, "And now... dey plan upon another attack..."

"Who, Kasimir?" Anestrothea asked; "Out with it, this is part of the agreement."

Kasimir looked at the floor darkly, averting his gaze to the wall; "Dey plan on attacking de twins of de Weasley line... at... deir shoap... I alerted several of my... confidants, and word shall reach dem in time. Wards are being set up... But I t'ought dat you should know... alert deir modder, since she is here at present..."

"No way!" Tonks exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand afterward.

Kasimir nodded grimly; "I tell no lies... you, cannot tell lies here wit'out being found out..." his eyes rested on Brenna again briefly.

"Thank you for telling us, Kasimir," Lupin said. Kasimir nodded to him.

"Suppose you'll want payment for this," Moody grumbled.

"As a matter of fact," Kasimir said, smirking at him; "Nien... I am far too preoccupied to feed now. I have... many more errands to run..."

Moody snorted, and rolled his good eye. The magical one was staring intently at Kasimir.

"I must take leave," Kasimir said; "Before my disappearance goes noticed..." he bowed to Anestrothea slightly, then with a resounding crack like lightening, he vanished.

Ron was staring at the spot where Kasimir had been; "I'll... I'll tell mum," he said finally, getting up.

"Ron, wait," Hermione said, following him as he rushed up the stairs.

Harry and Brenna watched them go, and they both got up; "Pa-pa?" Brenna asked.

Anestrothea sighed, and turned to look up at them slowly; "Never worry, dear," he said; "I propose you two go to bed, and get a lot of rest for tomorrow."

"Alright, Pa-pa," Brenna said.

Harry and Brenna said their good-nights, and went back to the study; "Okay," Harry said, "Who was that?"

"Ever hear of a wizard called Gastolph?" Brenna asked, walking over and sitting down on the couch by the fire. Harry sat down beside her, shaking his head. Brenna sighed; "He... used ta be a pretty big wig at teh Ministry... well, before 'e got bit an' everything," she sighed; "Now, 'e spends 'is days as a sort of, mediator 'tween the Dark Creatures an' people... 'e gets put on the line all the time, and only m' grandda shows 'im gratitude. 'E's a very loyal person, so don't be scared of 'im. 'E knows who y'are an' knew what risk 'e'd put 'imself in if 'e 'armed any one of us," she paused; "'E's still a man, even after ever'thin' 'e's bin through."

Harry nodded; "You could tell, couldn't you?" he asked, "That I was scared?"

"You were?" Brenna asked; "I thought you were just curious!"

"No," Harry said, laughing; "The whole thought of one scares me," he shuddered; "Not one of my favorite things, vampires."

Brenna laughed quietly; "Well, our vampire is safe," she said, messing with his hear playfully.

Harry laughed and took her hand in his, and they smiled at each other; "Flirt," Harry said.

"Obvious," Brenna retorted.

"Desperate."

"Needy."

Harry blushed; "Hey, low blow," he said, feigning a hurt expression and turning away form her as he pouted.

"Flirt," Brenna replied, running a hand through his mop hair again and laughing. Harry laughed too, and turned around to face her.

"Thanks," he said.

"Thanks? For what?" Brenna asked.

"For... everything," Harry said, smiling.

"Anythin' for a friend," Brenna said. She leaned forward, and planted a light kiss over Harry's scar; "Sweet dreams, Harry," she said kindly, then she was up and had left.

Harry felt a tingling feeling the moment she kissed the scar, but it was oddly warm and comforting. He watched her go, longing for more of that feeling. Then he groaned when realization hit him. Harry covered his face with a pillow, and groaned again.


	7. First to Diagon Alley

A/N: ok, ya know what? Just read the story, please. Hey, any good drawers out there? I want to see if somebody can draw Brenna! Please, my e-mails up! I think...  
  
**Um, is _'more than a Mary Sue'_ a good thing?**  
  
Disclaimer: Yes, J.K. Rowling writing fan fictions for HER OWN BOOK. The thought is laughable. cough I own nothing.  
  
**-----CHAPTER SEVEN-----**  
  
Harry woke up the following morning, having gotten out of bed he quickly showered and dressed. He then rushed down to the kitchens to snag some breakfast before Anestrothea set the seals. Harry then went out to fly on his broom, breathing in the crisp air. It was wonderful here, so peaceful. Though things happened, he thought only complete annihilation could destroy the place's tranquility. Here he could forget about the war and all responsibility.  
  
Harry soured, spreading his arms out and throwing his head back as he shouted— with happiness, to his surprise. Harry took hold of the broom again, and looked around.  
  
His smiled faded however, as he saw the procession of centaurs. Brice was at the lead, looking around. Eamnonn was behind, the pelt of the Inundu draped over his back ceremoniously. _They're going to send it off, _Harry thought, _suits that damn cat right... I feel so sorry for them..._Harry shook his head and turned to head back to the castle. He had gone too far for his liking, and soon landed in the garden.  
  
He dismounted, and walked in through the side entrance and into the kitchen. At that time, as he was leaning his broom against the wall, Brenna shuffled in, still in her bedclothes and wrapping a robe around her slight form.  
  
"Morning," Harry said.  
  
Brenna nodded, smiling slightly as she rubbed her eyes; "Bad night?" Harry asked, sitting down at the table.  
  
Brenna nodded again, "Couldn't sleep," she said quietly, sitting down across from him.  
  
"Nightmare?"  
  
Brenna nodded; "Yeah," she said, sniffing and wiping her eyes again.  
  
Harry nodded, "Need some tea?"  
  
"No, thanks," Brenna said; "I'm fine," she paused; "I think Lupin and Kinglsey and Tonks are gonna take us to Diagon Alley today."  
  
"Really?" Harry asked, "It'll be great to get out."  
  
Brenna looked at him; "I've never been," she said; "Is it really just some alley?"  
  
"No, not at all," Harry said; "It's just, you know, an alley compared to the Muggle world around it. There area lot of shops there, you'd like it."  
  
"Oh," Brenna said, nodding.  
  
"What's the matter, Brenn?" Harry asked, "You're not your exuberant self. Normally it's me who's moping about in the mornings."  
  
Brenna shrugged; "Dunno what's up, jus' a day," she said simply; "Pahaps gettin' out fa once'll help me a bit."  
  
"Yeah, we'll have to show you around," Harry said; "Please cheer up, Brenna. It's a gorgeous day! Please?" he added, sticking out his bottom lip.  
  
Brenna looked at his face, how Harry tired the puppy dog eyes. She giggled, and Harry smiled; "Okay," Brenna said; "No use, is et?"  
  
Harry shook his head; "It's nice having someone around to smile," He said; "At least, nice to have a pretty one. You look so... _old_ when you don't smile."  
  
"Ah!" Brenna exclaimed, looking shocked.  
  
"Kidding! Kidding!" Harry said; "Honest, just a joke!"  
  
Brenna shook her head and got up; "I'm just sensitive sometimes, nah your fault," she said, smiling at Harry; "Think I'll get ready..."  
  
Harry nodded, watching her go. _Gosh, but she's got a tight arse_, he thought... _No! I did not just think... oh, out with it already Harry...  
_  
Harry rubbed his eyes, and got up. He fancied another ride on his broom before they had to go to Diagon Alley.

----------  
  
"Come on, Brenna! There'll only owls! How else will you be able to send letters to your Grandfather while your at Hogwarts?"  
  
" I'm nah goin' in there! 'Tis to loud and raucous!"  
  
"Fine then, you don't have to-"  
  
"Harry, how else is Brenna gonna get used to this place if we don't take her to the main center of communication?"  
  
"Ron, honestly, it's not that important. Brenna can use Hedwig or Pig!"  
  
Lupin, Tonks, Mrs. Weasley and Kingsley watched the trio bicker, a nervous Brenna between them; "Wonder how long it will take before she yells at 'em?" Tonks mused.  
  
"Wait for it," Kingsley mumbled, sipping on his tea and opening up a _Daily Prophet_.  
  
"SHUT IT!" Brenna finally yelled, pulling at her hair; "Stop bickerin'! I don't want nor do I wanna see a bloody owl, okay?"  
  
"Okay then, fine," Ron and Hermione said in unison, both crossing their arms huffily.  
  
"Told you two," Harry said, "We've got a pretty big list to get through," he said, pulling out the letter they had all received several days back; "First, we should stop at the book store, then on to get the potions things."  
  
"Okay, then," Hermione said; "Let's get started."  
  
They went into Flourish and Blotts, closely watched by the Order members breaking off into pairs. Harry and Brenna went looking for the sixth year books.  
  
"Ooh, es this one o' 'em?" Brenna asked, holding up one book.  
  
"No, but close, "Harry said; "It's a fifth year text."  
  
Brenna looked at the cover, and shrugged; "Like I'm supposed ta know," she muttered, looking along the shelves.  
  
Harry inwardly laughed, and smiled. He collected three of his books, and was searching for the correct Muggle History book when Brenna suddenly ran to him and latched onto his arm.  
  
"What's the matter?" Harry asked when he looked at her. Brenna's eyes were wide with fear, and her fingers were digging into his arm almost painfully; "Brenna-"  
  
"Hush!" she said, pulling them into the shadows. When Harry opened his mouth to speak, Brenna covered it with her hand.  
  
Lucius Malfoy, and Draco, appeared through the doorway. At that moment, Kingsley and Tonks pushed past them, Tonks having changed her hair to a normal shade to not stand out. They both glared at the Malfoys, and then each went to separate ends. Harry knew they were looking for him.  
  
Ron and Hermione came down the row, worried looks on their faces; "We need to go!" Hermione mouthed.  
  
Brenna removed her hand as she and Harry nodded. The four huddled together, and saw Kingsley appear at the end of the row. He looked at them, glanced around, then nodded as he lifted his hand and made a slicing motion across his chest. Then suddenly, they heard a loud crack, and a shout.  
  
"Run!" Brenna hissed, causing them all to drop their books and shoot for the door. All four rushed outside, and were then directed by Tonks and Lupin to a small shop. The sign read _"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes"._ Harry let out a sigh of relief.  
  
The shop was bustling with noises and activity, the walls lined with shelves stocked with jokes, gags, and other things used for pranks. Behind the counter, Fred was obviously having trouble opening a parcel, and hadn't noticed any of them enter. George walked in from the back room, carrying a box. But he saw the group, dropped the box, and smacked his brother smartly across the head.  
  
"Oi, Fred, didn't you notice the group come in?" he asked.  
  
"No, bit busy," Fred muttered, but he lifted his head up and dropped the object; "Ron! Harry, Hermione, Guys! How are you?"  
  
The two came around, and hugs were passed all around; "Oh, and who's this?" Fred asked, referring to Brenna but looking at Harry with an eye brow raised.  
  
"Oh, Fred, George, this is Brenna," Harry said, "Her family's given us a place to stay over the summer."  
  
"Charmed, charmed!" Fred and George said in unison, each shaking one of Brenna's hands.  
  
Brenna smiled and laughed; "Ooh, you lucky dog!" George muttered to Harry, nudging him.  
  
Harry scowled, but a blush soon colored his cheeks; "So, Brenna, enjoying your visit?" Fred asked her.  
  
"Oh, very, thank you," Brenna said, clearly to Harry's surprise. She smiled pleasantly.  
  
"I just don't understand it!" Kingsley was saying to Lupin; "We let Malfoy off to his mother, so why is he back with his father?"  
  
Lupin was about to reply, but Molly Weasley burst into the shop; "Fred! George! Come and greet your mother!"  
  
"Mum!" the twins said in unison, running over and embracing their mother.  
  
Brenna laughed quietly, but the laugh was tinged with jealousy. Harry and Hermione both caught it; "Brenna," Hermione began.  
  
Brenna turned, smiling to her; "So, Show ma around!" she said, "Thess place is amazin'!" she took Hermione's arm, and Hermione led her around, explaining what was what.  
  
Harry turned, and saw Ron had an issue of the Daily Prophet; "Ron," Harry said; "What now?"  
  
"Thank God nothing," Ron replied; "but, I was just checking is all."  
  
Harry nodded, but was drawn from further conversation when Brenna wheeled him around; "Harry," she said, her eyes glittering with mischief; "I got tha pafect idea ta get Malfoy fa' lyin'!"  
  
_Oh no_, Harry though, then he said aloud; "What?"  
  
Hermione came up, the same look on her face, with a small box in her hand. She opened it, and Harry gasped; "You two are evil," he muttered, "Absolutely evil. Even I wouldn't want to do that to somebody."  
  
"But this is Malfoy," Hermione edged; "Fred's willing to give it to us for free, too."  
  
Harry bit his lower lip; "Harry, come on," Brenna said; "afta ever'thing he's done to ya? An' it'll on'y las' a couple o' hours."  
  
"Long enough for him to get it, though," Hermione added.  
  
"What's going on?" Ron asked as he walked over, and Hermione showed him the contents of the box. Ron stared at it for a moment, the broke out laughing; "You're joking!" he said through his fit of amusement, "On who?"  
  
"Malfoy," Hermione and Brenna said in unison; "That git's got et comin'," Brenna added.  
  
Ron looked at her in surprise; "You're in on this?" he asked; "Our own, sweet innocent Brenna?"  
  
Brenna smirked, idly closing the box with a snap and tossing it into the air before catching it; "This gel's not innocent," she said; "First foot he steps on, thess baby comes out."  
  
Fred came over, beaming; "Ah, the 'Jack Wack Gone' box? Nice choice," he said, patting Brenna and Hermione both on the back; "Who's it for?"  
  
Brenna smiled; "A certain blonde snake," she replied coyly.  
  
Fred laughed; "Wonderful, finally, it's put to good use!" he exclaimed; "Now, it seems you four will be here for a while, seeing as how Lupin's informed us of the Malfoy threat. You're to stay here-"  
  
"With us!" George called from the counter.  
  
"Until they finish your shopping and take you home," Fred finished; "Now, tea, anybody? Or perhaps ice cream?"  
  
--------------  
  
They spent the remainder of the day catching up and sharing stories, laughing at jokes and the odd assortment of prank items the twins had in stock. They all took to the upstairs apartment the twins had furnished and shared, all sitting around the living room where an extra couch had been brought in. It was a rather fun time, and Brenna finally understood why siblings were always happy. A small part of her envied them, but the other part of her outweighed by the fact that she was out, about, and with friends. _And with Harry_, Brenna mused, _No, no no no no! I did not just think that! Like Harry fancies me like_ that, _anyway... _she stirred her seventh cup of tea, engrossed in her thoughts.  
  
"Something the matter, Brenn?" Harry asked her worriedly; "You went kinda pale all of a sudden..."0  
  
"I'm fine, really," Brenna said, smiling at him; "Jus' thinkin' a little..."  
  
"You're back hurting you again?" Hermione asked.  
  
Brenna shook her head; "Oh, what's wrong with your back?" Fred asked, both twins looking at her curiously.  
  
"Oh, nothin'," Brenna replied; "Jus', ran inta somethin' an' I got a little scratch..."  
  
"A little scratch?!?!" Ron said loudly, but Harry shot him a look that simply _read shut the fuck up about it_ _all._ Ron stopped from continuing, and sipped on his butter beer.  
  
"It was nothin', really," Brenna said when the twins looked at their brother, then back to her; "Honest, nothin' ta worry about."  
  
"Okay," Fred said uneasily.  
  
"What ever you say," George said; "So, anyone know who's gonna be the DADA teacher this year?"  
  
"We thought Lupin would," Harry said; "But, the Ministry hasn't lifted the ban."  
  
"So, there's not going to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts class?" Fred asked.  
  
"At _all_?" George added.  
  
Harry shook his head; "That's why we're starting the DA meetings again," Hermione said, "We've spent a lot of nights up on it, and we already know the best spells we'll need in the long run."  
  
"Dumbledore's Army rises again!" Fred said enthusiastically.  
  
"Yeah, and with Brenna around, we'll be able to get more groups together," Ron said.  
  
"Oh, so your going to Hogwarts?" George asked, looking at Brenna.  
  
"Yeah," Brenna said, "But, Dumbledore just put me in Griffindor. He figured I'd get that House anyway, so..." she shrugged, then smiled; "I'm apparently a transfer student from... oh, where was it again, Harry?"  
  
"New Jersey," Harry said, snorting with mirth; "From the States, no less, but _New Jersey_!"  
  
They all had a good laugh at this, but stopped when they heard the shop door open; "Fred, didn't you lock the door?" George asked.  
  
"Yeah, and warded it off, too," Fred said, getting up; "Everyone stay here," he said to the younger, "I mean it. George, come on."

A/N: uh oh...........cliffhanger cliffhanger! dun dun dun.... ooh....oooh.... 'someone cough traitor cough wicked this way comes'....


	8. Fate's Ironic Confrontation

**A/N:** revamped and reedited

-----CHAPTER EIGHT-----  
  
"Fred-" Ron began, but Fred shot him a look that made Ron sink into his seat and shiver.

The twins departed through the side door, closing it. The four heard their footsteps, and heard Fred ask something, and he was given a reply. Harry nervously looked at Ron and Hermione, who were watching the door with anticipation. Harry turned to look at Brenna. Her mug was nearly out of her hands, her eyes wide with an emotion Harry couldn't place as they stared at the door as well.

"Brenna?" Harry asked, "What's wrong?" he knew that look. She had gotten that look when Draco had popped out of the fire.

Brenna abruptly got up, setting her mug down on the table and rushing to the door. Harry and Ron jumped up, and as Hermione got up Harry took Brenna's arms and pulled her back gently. She tried to shrug him off, rolling her shoulders in an effort to escape his grasp/

"Brenna! We can't go down there!" Harry said as kindly as he could as Brenna fought to free herself from him.

"They've got teh place sahrounded, wha's et mattah?" Brenna asked; "Ah know ooh's out theh!" she suddenly shouted angrily, and Ron and Harry pulled her back.

"Brenna!" Ron exclaimed, but Brenna threw both Harry and Ron from her in a burst of sudden magic, and she threw the door open.

Ron landed against the wall, sliding to the floor with a moan. Harry managed to skid to a halt, though he dropped to his knees and bruised them. "Ron, are you okay?" Harry asked, but Ron only waved to the door as he rose.

"Brenna-!" Harry shouted as he entered the shop, but he froze.

Fred and George were busy holding a struggling Brenna back and Harry winced as she threw them from her. Brenna's eyes were flaming with anger as she glared at the doorway. Harry looked. There was Victor Krum...

"Krum?" Harry asked; "Brenna, he's a good guy!"

"Et's ooh's bahind 'im tha's got me," Brenna hissed, clenching her fists; "Tell Ron Ah'm sorry," she said to Harry, then she stared at Krum.

Krum walked over to Harry; "Iz Herm-own-ninny here?" he asked.

"Uh- oh, hang on!" Harry suddenly said, dashing over and taking Brenna by the arm as she made to run towards the door.

"Let me go, Harry!" she shouted, "It's one of 'em, Ah kin feel tha Mark on 'is horrid arm! Lemme go!" she said shrilly, but inevitably gave up. She didn't want to hurt Harry, and she had already sent three to the ground.

"Calm down!" Harry said, then he looked at Krum; "Who's with you?"

"Mien auld headmasteur," Krum said, ushering towards the door. A tall, silvery-white-haired man entered. He was apparently in his mid- to late fifties, and his face was wrinkled. He looked weathered and pale, and his robes, though made of fine material, looked a little shabby. But Harry knew the face.

"Karkaroff!" Fred, George, and Harry exclaimed; "Never mind, Brenna, have at him!" Fred urged. And George added a spiteful "Rip that git to pieces," along with a glare at the ex- headmaster of Durmstrang.

"Please, Harry, one swing's all Ah'm afta," Brenna begged, looking at Harry.

"No, Brenna, don't hurt him," called a deep, tired voice, and with that, Kingsley, Lupin, and Tonks entered; "Karkaroff's coming with us."

"What?" Harry asked, "Why?" he pulled Brenna to him closer instinctively, suddenly weary of the two Bulgarians, and the Order members.

"Harry, we'll explain," Lupin said; "For now, though, we must go. Fred, George, thank you both very much-er, why are you both on the ground?"

"Oh, just dropped something, Professor," Fred said, groaning as he rose from the barrel he had been leaning against. He helped George up from the floor as well.

"Didn't mind them at all," George said.

Brenna and Karkaroff had engaged in a stare, both gazing at each other with hate and painful recognition, though Karkaroff's gaze showed fear. Harry remembered how Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, and had gone into hiding after the Triwizard Tournament. Harry looked at Brenna again, and saw she had tears in her eyes.

"You... _you_," she began, shaking; "Wha' gives ya the gall? Comin' 'round when ya knew wha' ya did! How could ya do it?" she said shrilly, "How can ya come 'round now? Have ya no regrets, nah guilt?"

Harry held her tightly as Brenna turned into him and broke down in tears. Harry shushed her soothingly, glaring at Karkaroff, and he muttered; "Bastard," to him.

"I was young," Karkaroff said, sighing fitfully; "Well, _younger_. I... I have no excuse for what I did..."

"No, ya don't!" Brenna snapped, turning her head to glare at him. She made to hex him again, but Harry held her back; "You laughed!" she nearly shrieked; "You laughed, you filthy, spineless piece a-!"

"That's what Malfoy was doing around," Kinglsey stated before she could continue, standing in front of a closed door; "They were looking for Igor."

"They can have 'im," Brenna spat; "'E's not allowed near us..." her voice trailed off as she glared at Karkaroff.

Harry had never heard hatred so strong come from Brenna. Though he knew she had underlying secrets, it apparently took seeing Karkaroff to make them surface. And hell hath no fury like a woman's anger...

"I... I didn't commit the act… _alone_," Karkaroff.

"But ya got away," Brenna hissed; "Safely veiled unda tha Ministreh's cloak!"

"I didn't do any deed like killing!" Karkaroff nearly shouted.

"Buh, ya did torture, didn' ya? Ya dinna keel 'em yaself, ya little hooded friends jus' finished et all off for ya!" Brenna shook again, turned to Harry, and buried her face in his shirt as she began crying again.

"We're taking Karkaroff into custody," Kingsley said, and Karkaroff hung his head in shame and guilt.

"I hope ya nevva wake up," Brenna whispered, so quietly that only Harry heard.

Harry looked at her worriedly; "Come on, Brenna," he said, looking at Karkaroff with hate beyond words for ever hurting one of his friends; "Let's go upstairs, away from _him_."

Brenna nodded, and without another word, Harry was taking her up the steps.

George and Fred turned at the same time with identical looks of shock and anger, and stared at Karkaroff; "Ooh, I'd love to be a Ministry worker now," Fred seethed; "You filthy bastard!" he shouted.

"How could you be so evil, you rotten wanker?" George nearly yelled; "That's it, unload the barrels of poprocks, Fred! Hurry, just throw them!"

"Fred, George!" Lupin exclaimed as the twins ran and hauled a large crate in labeled: DANGEROUS: EXPLOSIVES. Cursing under their breaths, the twins obeyed. When they set the box down, several cracks issued from it, and sparks. Karkaroff shivered.

"Mister Krum," Kinglsey said; "Thank you for being so willing," he took one of Karkaroff's arms, Tonks taking his other.

Krum nodded, and then moved to the stairs. Fred jumped in front of him, wand at the ready. Krum pulled the arms of his robes down, baring bare arms; "I 'ave no mark," he said, putting his robe on again; "Now, may I please see Herm-own-ninny?"

Fred nodded, letting Krum pass. He then turned to the Aurors, and he said; "Get that... _thing_," he pointed his wand at Karkaroff; "Out of here..."

Tonks and Kingsley left, and Lupin sighed; "He wasn't supposed to come in," he moaned; "We knew already what happened."

"Best fess up, Professor," George said as he shut and locked the door; "We're not little anymore, we can handle it."

-------

"It's just, no, no, no! Why's he here? Wha's got inta Kinglsey? 'E knew, 'e _knows_!"

"Brenna, clam down! Before you break something! Please, sit down..."

Harry ushered Brenna to the sofa, where both sat down. Brenna covered her face in her hands, scooting away from Harry and leaning against the armrest as she sobbed.

"Brenna," Harry began, but nothing else would follow. Harry scooted towards her slowly, and before he knew it, he was right beside her. Though he caught a stray tear every now and then, Brenna never truly _cried_. Now, she was bawling.

"Brenna," he tried again, and this time, she turned and fell into him. Harry held her shaking form, glancing over as Krum slipped up the stairs and too the roof, where Hermione and Ron were.

When there was finally silence, Brenna looked up; "S-Sorry," she choked.

"Everyone deserves to cry, Brenna," Harry said quietly. There was a pause before he continued; "What... what happened that'd make you so mad a Karkaroff, anyway? I can understand if you don't want to tell me..."

"Nah, I undastan'," Brenna said, "Harry, ya don' know why tha pictchas don't move, an 're faded, do ya?" Harry shook his head slowly, and Brenna sighed. She curled up, her knees half-over Harry's lap, though she didn't seem to notice because her gaze had drifted to the fire again; "Ah was seven..." she began, "When... when et all started 'appenin'... Ah kin remember, mah da takin' me to mah Aunt Belle's," she paused as tears and a sob threatened, the memory coming fresh into her mind again; "'E... 'e said 'e'd on'y be gone for ah-a few days," she laid her head on Harry's shoulder; "Buh... Belle insisted 'e stay fa dinna, a' least... well, she an' da got inta it, an' Ah 'ad gone ta my play room, ya know, when all of a sudden, Ah heard the door crash open, and Belle screamed. Da yelled, and I heard a crash," she paused; "Ah ran down stairs, an' saw that... those Death Eaters had da an' Belle cornered. They were threatenin' mah da, an' he was just tryin' to get Belle to me.

"There was this great flash o' light, and next thing Ah knew, Belle had scooped me up an' 'ad taken me ta the secret room. Soon's the door closed, Ah 'eard... Ah 'eard someone laugh," She paused; "It was unnat'ral, 'Arry, it wasn' human — at all. Ah... Ah was so scared, and then the door opened," she shook her head and closed her eyes, gasping; "He was standin' there, Karkaroff was. He'd laughed, and 'e had Belle's shawl in 'is 'and... an'... an' there was blood on et. He laughed when 'e saw me, Harry, laughed like a mad one. Then, da came up from behind 'im, hittin' 'im with a curse. Karkaroff shouted, and they started fightin'...!" Harry finally felt his shoulder grow damp, and he rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"Shh, Brenna, it's okay," he soothed.

"Nah, 'tis not," Brenna said; "Ya know why our portraits are different? Theh're _self portraits_, signed wheth blood. When... when tha blood's spilled... an' not on tha painta's will, tha picture stops movin'... and, when the painter's killed by murder, or not by nature, the picture fades..."

Harry's eyes widened with realization. Over the months, he had counted and remembered the portraits. There were well over one hundred, and all but two were frozen. Brenna and Anestrothea's...

"The shadings importan', too," Brenna mused, "Green, dead by Goyle, Zambini, or Crabbe, second-rank Death Eaters... steels, greys, lower Death Eaters, red, _him,_ tan... Malfoy, or Karkaroff, Right 'anders..." her eyes darkened as she glared at the fire again.

_Amadeus's was tanned_, Harry mused, so were so many others! _Good gods, nearly all of them were!_ "I can see why you hated him," Harry mused. He shifted his weight, and Brenna moved to rise; "No, you're fine," Harry said, and Brenna gratefully fell back to his side.

"Thanks," Brenna said.

"Thanks? For what?" Harry asked.

"For... everythin'," Brenna said, looking up at him; "ya're the only one ooh's listened to mah... fa this long, anyways," she added, looking away and blushing.

"Hey," Harry said, "Anything for a friend," he smiled, and when Brenna looked up at him. _Go on, Harry, make your move!_ a little voice said.

Harry leaned forward, and kissed Brenna gently on the lips. She looked surprised, but welcomed the contact. Both pulled away, and Brenna rested her head on Harry's chest. Harry rested her chin, pulling her into his lap. Brenna sighed shakily, but Harry saw a faint smile play across her lips. He smiled, and closed his eyes.

Peace, once a myth to him, now a reality.

-------------------------

Fred and George came up the steps, both ready to kick Krum out for ever knowing Karkaroff, but upon seeing the sleeping forms of Harry and Brenna curled up together on the couch, they had to smile. Exchanging glances, Fred and George quietly retreated to the roof, to find Krum, Hermione, and Ron talking. Ron was staring over the railing at the city lights, and Hermione and Krum were conversing quietly at a table. Upon seeing Fred and George walk over, though, the stopped.

"Guys," Ron said warningly, "Please, Krum's fine," he rubbed his eyes wearily; "Just, not now..." he moaned.

"Victor just told us about everything," Hermione said sadly, "And, add that up with what Brenna's told us..."

"Lupin filled us in on both sides." Fred said glumly.

"Yeah," George said; "But, Harry got Brenna calmed down a lot..."

"Oh, how?" Ron asked, turning and looking at his brothers.

Fred and George smirked; "Found the little lovebirds curled up together on the couch," Fred said impishly.

"Not in –that- way," George said, cuffing his brother in the shoulder.

"They are rather close," Hermione mused; "No surprise, really..."

There was a Pause, then Fred said, "Ya know, I haven't seen Harry look so peaceful since last year an' all..."

The four who knew nodded solemnly, but Krum was left in the dark. He shook his head, and got up; "Vell," he said; "I must get back to my 'ome. Hermione," he said, smiling, "It vas good to see you again."

"You as well, Victor," Hermione said, smiling and getting up as well; "Here, I'll walk you down."

The three brothers watched the two disappear, then broke down laughing; "Oh, 'I'll walk you down'!" Fred said in a girlish voice, fluttering his eyelashes as Hermione had done.

"I swear, growing up fast, aren't we?" George mused. He pulled at his hair; "Great Scotts— a gray hair!"

"Well, no one can tell," Fred said, "Ron, what'd got your knickers in a twist?"

Ron was once more gazing out at the city, arms crossed and brow furrowed; "Upset, is all," he muttered.

"About what, baby brother?" George asked.

"Nothing," Ron sighed, and he turned around; "I'm gonna go back inside..."

Fred and George watched Ron go, then followed shortly after.


	9. PART TWO: Hogwarts

A/N: revamped and reedited

**-----CHAPTER NINE-----**

"Hurry, Brenna! We're going to be late! BRENNA!"

Molly Weasley's warning rang through the house like a frantic siren. Brenna shouted as she skidded down the hallway, bumping into the wall in her haste and nearly knocking down a vase. She put on her remaining shoe, and as she slid down the banister she quickly put her hair up, only to land gracelessly in the foyer where Ron, Harry, Hermione, and some of the Order were waiting.

"Sorry," Brenna said, blushing. She saw her trunk and bag next to Kingsley's feet, and sighed; "Okay, everythin's 'ere, we can go now, righ'?"

Molly laughed in that motherly warm tone; "Of course, dear," she said, smiling; "Come along, all, we're going by Port Key. Gather 'round!"

Lupin produced a very old teddy bear, and Brenna couldn't help but laugh once at it. Soon, they had all joined and the port Key transported them to Platform 9 ¾'s.

"Now, be sure to owl every chance you get," Molly said as she gave each a hug; "And stay out of trouble," she added warningly, eyes staying on Harry for a moment too long.

"The only trouble you'll here from is from the Ministry," Ron said, smiling childishly. His mother replied by cuffing him soundly on the ear.

Brenna looked at the crowded platform, becoming nervous. She wasn't used to crowds and the noise and the entire hubbub was almost unnerving. She clung to Kingsley's arm for protection, easily comforted by the tall, muscular Auror's stature. Kingsley looked at her, and smiled.

"It'll be fine, Brenna," he said comfortingly, "Not a thing will happen to you, just stick with Harry and Hermione and Ron and you'll be alright."

Brenna smiled at him, then looked around; "Ya'll stop by, won't ya?" she asked, looking up at him again.

Kingsley sighed; "I'll see," he said, "Maybe, if something happens. Now, go on," he kissed the top of her head like any godfather would, then gently shoved her to the first rail cart. Ron and Hermione stuck their heads out, and helped Brenna aboard.

"By, Mister Shacklebolt!" the three said, ducking in as the train started off.

"You and Shacklebolt are pretty close, aren't you?" Ron asked as they walked down the hallway.

"Yeah," Brenna said, "Where's 'Arry?" she asked.

"Oh, he's trying to get a compartment for us," Hermione said, rolling her eyes; "Honestly, sometimes he just gets too-"

"Look, Malfoy, I'm not letting you take this compartment!" It was Harry shouting from the end of the hall, and they could see a crowd forming steadily.

Brenna ran ahead, shoving through the crowd to find Harry standing in the doorway of a Compartment, Neville and Ginny being within it. Draco and his two goons, along with Pansy and her little wiry haired friend, were there as well.

"Look, Potter, beat it," Draco said, thumbing behind him; "I want this compartment."

Brenna made her way through the crowd; "Harry?" she asked, looking around; "What's the matter?" she took her place by his said, and turned to Draco to give him a blank stare.

Draco smirked, and crossed his arms; "Brenna, Brenna, Brenna!" he gasped, shaking his head as he did and smirking; "What on earth's got you here? I wasn't expecting to see you for some time!"

"Shove it, Malfoy," Ron said, he and Hermione making their way through the crowd as well; "It's been a hard summer, for all of us."

"Not up to comebacks, Weasel?" Draco said; "What, family in the poor-poor house this time around? I'm not surprised, to be honest, what with-"

He was stopped as Brenna's hand came into sharp contact with the side of his face. The loud smack that followed sent Draco into the crowd, and he was so stunned he couldn't retaliate for a second. Crabbe and Goyle hauled him to his feet.

"An' afta we took ya in," Brenna said, stepping back with a huff. Harry was staring at her, as were Ron and Hermione. Neville and Ginny had poked their heads out as well, and they, too, were stunned.

"Filthy trash," Draco spat, spitting at her feet.

Brenna opened her mouth to retort, but Harry beat her to it; "Bastard Child."

That struck a nerve. Draco blinked, face flushing a vibrant red. He turned on his heel and left.

Ron, Hermione, and Brenna slipped in, and Harry closed the door as he went in. They waited for the crowd to disperse, then allowed themselves to settle in.

"That hit him hard, Harry," Hermione commented.

"Not like it isn't the truth, though," Ron grumbled.

"Why would 'e call me tha'?" Brenna asked quietly; "Ah'm na filthy, nor trash…"

"Just ignore it, Brenna," Harry said, sitting down and staring out the window as he became deep in thought.

"So, Brenna," Neville said; "How long will you be staying at Hogwarts?"

"All year," she replied, smiling at him. Neville blushed.

"Really? Wonderful!" Ginny exclaimed, clapping her hands; "Who will you be rooming with?"

"Actually," Hermione said, "I think Brenna gets her own quarters, in between the head boy and head girls', or in the Tower, depending, of course…" When she received baffled looks, she simply shrugged; "You all should _read_."

"Hah, I dinna want t' be alone!" Brenna said, waving her hands; "No, no no no no no!"

"I'm sure we could work something out," Harry said; "Perhaps McGonagall can grant you a 'pass' or something."

Ron rolled his eyes as the girls giggled, and Neville buried himself in a book; "So," Ron said; "Wonder who'll take Fred and George's places as beaters on the team, eh?"

Harry shrugged as he turned to his friend; "Who knows," he said; "Just hope they're strong and can swing."

Ron chuckled; "Here, here, mate," he said.

There was a knock at the compartment door then, and it slid open to reveal the trolley; "Ooh, snack stuffs!" Ron said happily; "Okay, we'll take the chocolate frogs, the Bertie Bott's, hmm, and then we'll take..."

The list went on and on.

Along the train ride, after talking and eating, Ginny, Neville, Ron and Hermione dozed off. Hermione had coincidentally fallen across Ron's lap, while the redhead was slumped against the window. Neville was leaning against the wall, while Ginny had slumped down to the floor with her head against the seat. Harry had pulled out the Daily Prophet out of boredom, while Brenna remained gazing out the window with a glazed look to her eyes.

"Miss home already?" Harry asked quietly, looking up at her.

Brenna stared out the window in silence; "Yeah," she admitted, not looking away; "Ah… Ah nevah stayed 'way from 'ome…"

"I'm sorry," Harry said; "If I could think of anything, I'd do it."

Brenna smiled; "Tha's okay, 'Arry," she said, looking at him. Then she looked out the window, sighing and saying something Harry couldn't understand.

"What was that?" He quipped.

Brenna blinked at him; "Wha' was wha'?" she asked.

"That, what you just said!" Harry said, then he sighed; "Sounded like Yiddish or something…"

Brenna turned to him, and pulled the paper away to sit in his lap, Harry emitting a slight "oof!" as she did; "Wha's tha'?" she asked innocently.

"It's a language," Harry replied; "Anyway, that sounds like the stuff you and your granddad talk in all the time."

Brenna laughed, a quiet, tinkling sound; "Tha's Ancestress…" she explained; "Lest, tha's wha et's called in English."

"Ooh, forgive me then," Harry said, rolling his eyes; "I can hardly speak Latin, let alone comprehend that."

"Latin?"

Harry sighed, wondering what Anestrothea had and hadn't taught Brenna; "You know, the base of practically every language?"

Brenna shook her head slowly, then waved the subject off; "Well cross tha' bridge when we get t' et."

Harry chuckled at that, but it was not a convincing one; "Harry?" Brenna asked; "What's tha mattah?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, really, nothing," Harry said, shaking his head.

Brenna eyed him, but decided against prodding further. That tone was reserved for when Harry was engrossed with a sudden bomb rush of thoughts, an occurrence quickly becoming a habit.

-------

The annual beginning of the year feast went on without a hitch. The new students were sorted, and then everyone sat down to eat. Brenna sat between Harry and Hermione, Ron sitting across from them with Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Ginny was on down the table with her friends.

"So, Brenna," Seamus said; "Where're ye from, again?"

Harry and Ron were about to retort, but Brenna simply smiled and brushed her hair back; " Scotland," she replied; "Bit towards the sea."

"Really? Why show up so late then?" Dean asked.

Brenna shrugged; "M' grandda chose to teach me ah 'ome 'til now," she said simply.

Dean seemed satisfied, but not Seamus. He asked Brenna a barrage of questions, Harry and Ron helping when Brenna's English failed her. All and all, nothing of secrecy had been pressured into the light of things.

"Harry," a slender girl with Hufflepuff robes he remembered vaguely from the year before, sat down next to him. "A few of are wondering about, you know, the _DA_," she said quietly, looking around.

"Spread the word," Harry replied; "DA meetings are going back on schedule two weeks from Tuesday at seven thirty."

The girl nodded, smiled, and got up. She returned to her table, and Harry turned to the group; "Well, best make fliers," he said sarcastically, drawing a laugh from the group.

Dean nodded; "I'll get right on it, might have seventy by Thursday."

"Wonderful!" Hermione said; "Harry, why two weeks from tomorrow?"

"Well, we just got back to school, 'Mione!" Neville said with a laugh. "Give us all time to settle in!"

The group laughed again, at the expense of Hermione, of course.

"Plus," Seamus said, swallowing his food; "I'm sure Harry would-"

Before he got the chance to finish, they all heard a caw.

A jet black raven with opal eyes descended from the owl post ledges, cawing again as its unnatural eyes scanned the Great Hall. Many head s turned upward to watch it, and almost all of the noise ceased. Finding its destination, the raven prepared to land.

And it did, between Harry and Brenna.

The raven squawked at Harry, and he saw that it had a rather thick scroll tied to its leg. The bird looked shabby, but the feathers were elegantly so it seemed regal and lethal, in a way. Its legs seemed longer, the talons shining and digging into the wooden table. It looked at Harry again, then to Brenna. Brenna was staring at it in shock, and reached out to touch it. Silently, the table watched on.

The bird hopped over to her, squawking again. Brenna reached out, and took the parchment. She stared at it, then to the raven, who in turn cocked its head to the side and stared back. Sighing, Brenna looked around, and unrolled the parchment.

As she did, the Raven turned, and hopped over to Ron. Ron stared at it in shock and a little out of fear. The bird squawked, then took his roll.

"Hey!" Ron said, trying to snatch it back. But the bird only hopped out of reach, causing Ron to fall forward into stew. The table laughed, and complete order was restored in Great Hall, the noise resuming to its regular level of loudness.

With a flick of her wand Ron was clean, then Hermione turned to Brenna, "Who's it from, Brenna?" she asked, her gaze drifting to the raven who sat pecking at the bread and eating the crumbs.

"It's from Kingsley," Brenna muttered, her brow furrowing as she rose with the parchment in her grasp; "I... where's a quiet place to read this?"

"The library," Hermione said, "But-" she never got a chance to finish. Brenna was out the door in a flash.

Hermione sighed, and watched the raven. It stared at her, beak full of bread. It squawked indignantly at her, sending bread crumbs everywhere.

"Pudgy little blighter, wouldn't y' say?" Seamus mused.

"Tell me about it," Harry said, watching the bird; "What's its name?"

"We'll just call it Squawk," Ron said smugly, getting another roll; "Or Feather Butt, your choice."

Dean chuckled, "Eh," he said; "Why was a crow sent instead of an owl, anyway? Thought she lived in Scotland?"

"Er, she does!" Harry said; "Her Grandfather's an eccentric, so I've heard."

Dean nodded, eyeing Harry suspiciously; "Whatever," he said finally, returning to his food.

------

Curiosity and worry finally forced Harry up from the table almost ten minutes later. He went in the direction of the library, but didn't need to get far before he heard the sobs. Brenna was leaning against the wall between a statue and a vase. She was sitting on her knees, leaning against the wall, eyes tightly closed tightly as tears came like waterfalls, her sobs muffled by her hand covering her mouth. Harry stood and watched her, then slowly walked over to her. Brenna crumbled the parchment as her hand balled into a fist so tight her knuckles paled.

"Brenna," Harry said, bending down in front of her.

Brenna's hand fell as she opened her eyes, looking upwards; "Ah hate 'im," she rasped, coughing with a hitched breath; "Ah hate tha' bloody damn ministah," she closed her eyes again.

"What? What did Fudge do?" Harry asked worriedly.

Brenna shook her head, and threw the parchment. Harry noticed that it lit up, and lit up in flames and fell onto the floor in a pile of ashes before it hit the wall. He looked back at Brenna.

"Nah, Fudge dinna do nothin'," Brenna said quietly; "And tha's... tha whole... problem!" she said, sobbing again.

"Brenna, what happened?" Harry said as gently as he could without over-expressing his point.

"Theh were attacked!" Brenna moaned quietly; "Righ' at the Ministreh's fron' door! All of 'em, Pa-pa, Tonks, Remus-"

"What?" Harry nearly shouted.

Brenna bit her bottom lip and nodded; "Yea," she said, "All of 'em, an' Fudge didn' do anythin'! Nothin', 'e was right there, and dinna nothin'!" she shouted, slamming her fists down on the floor; "damn Death Eaters," she hissed, standing and wiping her eyes. She glared at the pile of ashes, and they disappeared. Brenna then looked to a mirror, composed herself, and turned to Harry.

"Call a meetin' earlier, 'Arry," she said once she had calmed; "Please, dinna need more time t' pass. We canna afford et, noon o' us."

Brenna then stormed back to Great Hall, Harry following her in his own anger. The thought of Remus being hurt for no reason other than spite made him feel as if he were the one who had been attacked. He reached out and motioned for her to hold back, then strode into the Great Hall.

Great Hall quieted again as Harry made his way down the tables, walking up to the teacher's table. He jumped up in front of it, turned, straightened her robes, and was silent. All eyes were on him. Suddenly, he was aware of what he'd just done. Every eye was on him, every. But, he could not turn back now.

Clearing his voice, Harry confidently shouted; "Change of plans! Meeting tonight! Those of you that understand, you know where to go!"

Harry the jumped down, turned, nodded to the stunned teachers, made her way back down the rows of tables, and promptly left. Brenna, who had taken to leaning against the door and crossing her arms, watched him go, and then turned to look at Dumbledore. The old wizard still had the twinkle to his eye, but it was dulled with worried knowing. Brenna nodded to him, turned and followed after Harry. At the moment he was prone to self-injury.


	10. Being Safe

A/N: revamped and reedited

**-----CHAPTER TEN-----**

Brenna eventually found Harry in one of the halls, pacing back and forth along the floor. Brenna confronted him and thanked him, but was honest when she didn't expect him to do anything so soon.

"You were right, though," Harry said; "We shouldn't wait. We need to act now. That's the only way we can solve these sorts of things…"

"War, 'Arry?" Brenna asked, making sure she understood.

Harry nodded; "Listen, it's seven-thirty now. Why don't I take you up to the Common Room, and get you situated?"

"We can do that later, can't we?" Brenna asked; "I wanna see thess place…" she looked around then, curiosity evident.

Harry smiled; "Okay," he said, taking her hand; "Well, best start here. This is where the trophies are kept. See that one there? That's my dad's name…"

- - -

The tour was languid and well appreciated, Harry happy he was able to share the common knowledge with Brenna. They worked their way up to the seventh floor, rushed due to lack of time.

Finally, the large door of the Room of Requirement loomed in the distance, and Harry paused to look at Brenna; "You going to be okay?" he asked her, concerned.

Brenna gave him a small smile; "Aye," she said; "Ah well be. Let's go, a'ight?"

Harry nodded, and sighed before he

The room quieted as Harry stepped in, followed by Brenna who shut the door behind them. More had shown than before, though the same were there. Harry was concerned by this. He knew he had been too vocal about it all, but really… he didn't let the crowd bother him as he made his way to stand on a sturdy stack of books, making sure all could see and hear what he was about to say.

"I'm glad you all came tonight," he began; "I know how it gets settling back into someplace, but the reason for this meeting was urgent and needed. Tonight, not a few hours ago, the Death Eaters attacked a group of Activists," gasps flew from the crowd, and he paused until silenced reined; "You will not read about this in tomorrow's paper, because it happened at the Ministry… They only added four more victims to their list, along with several of our own…" he paused, briefly remembering Angelina; "People, we cannot tolerate this any more.

"Voldemort—" So many recoiled and reacted to the name, Harry regretted it; "Sorry. You-Know-Who is becoming more vocal, more prominent. He's rallying forces the Light will have trouble contending with. He'll have vampires, ogres, giants, werewolves… you name it, he'll have at least one, of that I'm sure.

"He's destroyed far more than either you or I could ever imagine," Harry said, then, he looked at Brenna; "More than we could fathom, or hope to gather why," he looked at the crowd; "_Cultures_ are crumbling and _disappearing_ because of that… that _Man_! No, not man, _beast_! That _thing_ that haunts us day and night!"

"But we have the necessity and the ability to stop Him. We are the future, am I right? We will be left after this war is finished. This was once my father's battle, a battle he lost…" he paused; "And I don't plan on having my children suffering! I cannot rest because the future is so bleak right now! Yes, you heard me, BLEAK!"

It seemed they were so shocked that he, Harry Potter, admitted their weakness. OF course everyone had a thought, possibly knew, that the threat was real and far larger than they were told.

"I am only human," Harry said, willing his shoulders not to slack; "_I_ will need help, _you_ will need help. That is why this organization was formed, to _help_. Not for me, nor for yourselves…"

"And if not for us, who then?" Seamus called from the crowd.

Harry smirked, knowing the Irishman's plan. Harry threw his fist up; "FIGHT FOR YOUR LIVELY HOOD!" he shouted.

Seamus through his fist up as well; "FOR YOUR WOMEN!"

"FOR FREEDOM!" Justin Flench-Fletchley hollered.

"AND HONOR!" a girl cried.

"FOR YOUR CHILDREN!" Ron shouted suddenly, throwing his fist up.

"AND FOR YOUR COUNTRY!" Seamus finished, pulling his fist to his chest, not averting his gaze from the stare he had matched with Harry's. Harry did the same, and then Seamus smiled.

Throwing his fist up, he whooped and screamed "OLAY!"

The rest of the students, lifted by the show of defiance against tyranny, all threw up their fists and cried out "OLAY!"

Harry laughed and clapped, as suddenly they were full of vestige and celebration, want for the future to come where they could prove their worth. From his post, he saw Brenna staring at him with a small, grateful smile. He relaxed, smiling back at her. Then, his gaze was moved when he heard the crowd's volume shift in his direction.

Shouts rose like thunder from the crowd, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all beaming. But as Ron's eyes roved the crowd, he saw a few unsure faces; "WAIT!" he said, loudly enough to where the shouts died down; "Someone's here that shouldn't be!" his eyes widened; "Green Robes in the back! Dean, Seamus, Michael, get them!" Ron dived in himself, taking the first culprit down.

In a flash, two Slytherins were thrown forward, both fourth year boys. Dean, Seamus, and the boy, Michael, from Ravenclaw, walked up and lifted them to their feet and pushed them up to Harry. Harry got down, seeing Brenna move through the crowd with worry etched on her features.

"Brenna?" he asked quietly, the single word speaking a simple question.

Brenna came to his side, and watched the boy. She studied him for an agonizing minute or so, silencing choking all who were witness. Briefly, she whispered something and touched each boy's forehead. In a flash, both Slytherins were on the ground, on their knees, clutching their heads. The crowd back away as they began changing shape and their complete look.

Polyjuice Potion.

What came from the boys were one relatively slight girl and another boy with broad shoulders. Both lifted their heads, and Harry suppressed a gasp by remaining tall and silent. Blaise Zambini, and Pansy Parkinson.

"Zambini!" Ron growled, and the crowd suddenly got deathly closer.

"Back up!" Hermione said loudly, and the body of people moved back one step; "Hoist them up please, Dean, Seamus," the Gryffindors did as told.

"_Accio wands_," Harry said, holding out his hand. Pansy and Blaise's wands flew from the pockets, and Harry caught them. He couldn't help but smirk at a glowering Pansy.

"Just wait, Potter!" she said shrilly, "We know where you all meet now, only a matter of time!"

"So?" Hermione interjected; "Everybody knows! Boy, for the 'Gossip Snake' you sure are clueless, aren't you?"

Pansy hissed at her; "I wouldn't talk, Mudblood," she sneered; "Why don't you just go fuck the weasel?"

"Shut up, you sniveling bitch!" Ron roared, lunging. Thankfully, Seamus and Dean held him back; "Don't you call her that!" Ron roared.

The crowd grew rambunctious then at the name, and shouts of punishments rang on high. Harry finally yelled; "BE QUIET!" and everyone hushed, though murmurs floated like the breeze.

"I say we wipe their memory, just in case," Ginny said, walking over.

Brenna shook her head, and looked at Blaise. Blaise was busy looking around, but froze when his gaze met Brenna's icy stare. Anger, loss, and pain so deep it was dark showed in the beautiful hazel-brown eyes, and Blaise shivered. The past caught up to him in a flash, all thanks to his father.

"We can do this the easy way," Harry said, "Or the hard way."

"VOTE! VOTE!" Zacharias chanted, throwing his fist up with each word.

"Well, we canna deny the crowd," Brenna mused, sitting on the stack of books as Harry smiled slightly. She crossed her legs and stared as Blaise looked up at her. He quickly averted his gaze from her cold, pain-filled one.

"Then it's settled," Harry said mostly to himself, and to the crowd, "What to we do about this?"

"Or do we have some fun?" Seamus added loudly, throwing his fist in the air with a wicked grin. "OLAY!" he cried, and several replied with the same chant.

Harry would not have this become a slaughter, but he wated as the room erupted in response. Hermione jumped onto the stand and shouted "QUIET!"

Everyone stilled to look up at her; "WE can't be heard! Filch will have us all!" this brought complete silence; "Let's be civil, we are not raging animals! By a show of hands, who says we should clear their memory, and let them run?"

A little over half, most after Harry had. Hermione nodded as she got down; "And all you others decided on having 'fun'?" Harry asked.

Silently, the rest raised their hands. Harry sighed; "By doing that, are we any better?" he asked.

Brenna rested her hand on Blaise's shoulder, and bent down beside him; "Why are you here, _Zambini_?" she whispered icily, the surname a curse on her tongue.

Blaise was rigid; "Snooping," he replied shortly.

Brenna shook her head; "why?" she asked, voice soft, patient, an oxymoron to the fire in her eyes.

Blaise sighed; "Draco told us of the DA, how you all met in here. He said he overheard you all over the summer, what ever he was doing around –_you_- is anybody's guess..."

"Watch it," Ron and Harry said in unison, and Blaise's shoulders shrugged.

But he would not relent; "He sent us to spy on you," he replied in the same tone, glaring at Ron; "We had to, do you know how powerful Lucius is? We _have_ to obey Draco now... he rules Slytherin..."

"Figures, the prick," Ron muttered.

Harry was quiet, and Brenna said, "'Mione, the verdict?"

"Wipe their minds, drop them in the dungeons," Hermione, holding up two vials filled with purple liquid.

"Hold them!" Harry said when Pansy tried to bolt. The sixth and seventh year boys closest took Blaise, while the girls closest held Pansy. Pansy was ready to fight tooth and nail, so Ginny stunned her. Dean ended up stunning Blaise as well, even though the Slytherin boy didn't put up a fight it was for good measure. Hermione and Harry administered the potions, and then Harry faced the crowd.

"Who's old enough to Apparate?" he asked. He knew that to Apparate was impossible in Hogwarts; he just wanted older hands to settle this matter.

Three hands went into the air, two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw; "Take them, please," Harry said as they moved forward; "One at a time, if you must. Drop them just outside the common room."

The three nodded, and took Pansy first. Seconds later they took Blaise, and the room was quiet.

"That will wipe their memory, correct?" a third year Ravenclaw piped.

"Yes," Hermione said, gesturing to a cabinet; "We came ready."

Ron finally glanced at the clock on the wall; "Blimey, Harry it's nearly eleven!" he exclaimed.

Harry looked at the clock, "shit," he muttered; "Okay, it's nearly curfew. Lucky us this is near every tower. Bolt out in threes and fours, and be careful!"

"When's the next meeting?" someone asked.

"Whenever we send out notices!" Hermione said as she went and opened the door slowly. She peered out, then opened it all the way; "Okay, see you all again!"

Ron and Hermione left after the last batch of second years, leaving Harry and Brenna alone in the Room; "'Arry, that was… amazing," Brenna said; "Teh way ya 'andled 'em all!"

Harry smiled and ran a hand through his hair; "Thanks," he said; "But I was scared to death!"

Brenna laughed; "Y' were the best, 'Arry," she said.

"Well, hearing that from you makes it all worthwhile," Harry said quietly, before he could stop it.

Brenna blushed; "Well," she said, but then her eyes saw the wands; "'Arry, what're ya gonna do 'bout the wands? Won't Blaise an' Pansy need 'em?"

Harry smiled; "Blaise, yeah, but Pansy," he looked at the wand and shook his head; "A few days wouldn't hurt her. Consider it revenge for Hermione. And, they won't know where they left them," he added as he put them in his robes; "You seemed upset when Blaise told us why they were here though. Why?"

Brenna looked away; "Ah misjudged, I was wrong," she said simply, looking back at him.

"Draco's a git, Brenna, a _Malfoy_ _Git_," Harry replied; "Always has been, always will be. That's the way of a Snake."

Brenna nodded; "Suppose ya right, but still," she paused; "Ah dunno, 'Arry, Ah jus' dunno..."

"Don't think on it," Harry said; "Just be happy, okay?"

Brenna smiled when he did; "Ya really enjoy it, don't ya?" she asked.

"We don't have Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore," Harry said, "It has to be done, and we know a lot, Ron, Hermione, you and I. Together, we'll get the DA in shape for Voldemort."

Brenna smiled; "Yeah," she said, "An' Ah get revenge," she added grimly as she looked away.

"How long ago since, the last person you knew died, Brenna?" Harry asked quietly as they mounted the final flight of stairs.

Brenna simply held up two fingers, and Harry nodded; "I'm sorry," he said.

"Thanks," Brenna said, "Buh, tha past es tha past. We learn from et, then move on. That's what they tell meh, anyway..."

Brenna's hand was now over the one Harry had on her waist, her other holding to Harry's arm. Harry enjoyed having her beside him, the comfort of another body's warmth reminded him of living when his head swam in a pool of grief and death.

After saying the password, Harry and Brenna walked into the common room to find it empty, save for one couple in the corner; "Look," Harry whispered, motioning to them. Brenna looked.

Ron and Hermione were cuddling on the couch, both asleep. Harry took Brenna's hand, and led her to the couch by the fire. They discarded the heavy robes, and the clothes landed on a chair back. The two sat down together, and Harry pulled a grateful Brenna into his arms. He sighed when she did, and kissed her forehead as he leaned back.

Brenna looked at him; "'Arry…" she said quietly.

"What?" Harry asked in a soft, gentle whisper, sitting up on his elbow with Brenna lying halfway atop him.

Brenna averted her gaze; "What if... Ah was ta say tha'... well, maybe..." she sighed, and closed her eyes briefly before looking at him; "How kin ya tell if... if ya safe?"

Harry stared at her, eyes widening in surprise; "If you're safe?" he repeated; "Brenna, why would you ask that?"

A familiar emotion flashed through her eyes, and Harry gazed at her worriedly, seeing her eyes water with emotion, and tears. He glanced at the fire, then questioningly at Brenna again.

Brenna nodded, looking away; "When you're safe," Harry said; "You feel content. You feel, satisfied in a way. You feel calm... You..." he paused; "You feel that you're being taken care of..."

Brenna looked at him; "Ah wish et were so," she whispered vaguely; "Ah canna r'member the las' time…"

"I could show you," Harry said, "That you should feel safe here..."

"How?" Brenna asked, looking at him steadily.

Harry kissed her, and after the quick shock and surprise, Brenna closed her eyes. And he rolled over so he was above her. Hands on her waist, his tongue graced against her lips, asking for passage. Brenna parted her lips slightly. Harry's tongue gently entered her mouth, feeling her tongue and her teeth. Brenna replied tentatively, and Harry smiled slightly as he thought _so innocent_...

The feeling he felt when Brenna kissed his scar returned, this time flooding all through his body and mind. Harry felt awash with the sense, and was desperate for more. There was a spark, muted but there as they kissed. Brenna was feeling it too, she at first went rigid, then immediately went flaccid. Harry fought the feeling to go limp as well, and decided to step further down the road, so to speak...

Harry's hand traveled slowly to her stomach, his other coming up and cupping around the back of her head as they continued to kiss passionate and oblivious to their surroundings. He tentatively played with the lowest button, and Brenna's breath hitched as he slowly pulled the shirt out. Harry slid a hand along her flat stomach, fingers tracing around her navel. Brenna let out a sigh, running her hands through Harry's raven hair.

Harry drew a quick breath when Brenna did, and continued to ravish her mouth. He bit her bottom lip lightly, causing Brenna to gasp quietly. Harry looked at her. Brenna's cheeks were flushed, her mouth partly open as she sighed, her long eyelashes brushing against them with her eyes closed. Harry wanted her badly, but knew going to far would cause a giant uproar. He continued to kiss her neck, his hand wrapping around to run along her spine.

Brenna gasped, arching her back. Harry had braced a knee on the couch with his other foot planted on the floor, and her knee brushed against his inner thigh. Harry paused for a split second as he felt a shiver, and his hand left her hair to run down her side. He continued kissing her already swollen lips, his own reaching past that point.

As Harry continued his ministrations, he could feel heat rising from his stomach. He suppressed a groan, and regretfully pulled away. Brenna's eyes fluttered open, and she gasped quietly as she looked at him. Her eyes seemed to have brightened in color and tone. She sighed, and smiled up at Harry.

Harry smiled; "Did you feel it?" He asked quietly, taking his hand from her skin and his other cradling her head.

Brenna closed her eyes and smiled slightly; "Yeah," she whispered, opening her eyes half-hooded to gaze at Harry; "Et's amazing... es thess wha' always 'appens?"

"Sometimes," Harry said, "In any case, it's a really, really good thing..."

Brenna averted her gaze as she thought, a habit Harry found slightly annoying. If he couldn't see her eyes, he couldn't tell what she was feeling, or what she could possibly be thinking. Finally, she looked at him again.

Harry kissed her forehead; "I think I love you," he breathed as he drew back.

Brenna looked at him, as if studying his very soul. She smiled, and closed her eyes; "Love me..." she mused; "Ah love_ you_ too, Harry," she said, "Ah know Ah do..."

Harry smiled, seeing her eyes brighten with happiness; "Um, it's late," he said, glancing at a clock and seeing it was well past midnight. He got up, pulling Brenna to her feet as he did. She swayed and laughed quietly as Harry chuckled and caught her; "We should... go to bed," Harry said softly.

Brenna nodded; "Ah asked fah a room here, in the Tower," she said.

"Come on, we'll see where it is," Harry said, taking her hand and walking quietly to the steps. Ron and Hermione were still in each other's arms, and the two quietly snuck past them. Harry and Brenna began walking up the steps, pausing as they got halfway and saw a door between the Prefects's. On it was a plaque with a raven perched on a log. It moved its head to face the two.

"Who are thee?" it asked.

Harry knew it was a guard or ward of McGonagall's; "Harry Potter and Brenna McBennitae;" he replied.

"Is this my room?" Brenna asked.

The raven nodded; "Aye," it said; "But first, thy must answer my query.'What lies deep within and cannot be seen, cannot be touched, nor taken, but is there for hearts to yearn and souls to seek? Answer this, in _Montogneh_," it added, the last word falling on Harry's ears like gibberish.

Brenna chewed her bottom lip; "Any idea?" she asked, looking at Harry.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head.

Brenna stared at the raven; "_lilingani_," she replied finally.

The raven nodded, and they heard a click. The door opened slowly, and Brenna and Harry gasped. It was a magnificent chamber, with a fireplace and couch, desk, and a small spiral staircase to a loft was where the bed was. The bed itself had covers draping over the edge, and a small railing was all that kept it from falling off. There were shelves around three sides of it, filled with little statuettes and books of all sizes and forms.

There was a door leading to a closet, and another leading to the bathroom. The sitting area was two steps down into an alcove in the center of the room, the fireplace being against the wall. The desk was actually a large table with shelves around and supporting it, with three chairs around it. There was a small little bench made of cloud cushions (like those in Trelawney's classroom) that levitated by the window, the drapes drawn back to reveal a beautiful view of the lake.

There was a statue of a lion sitting on one of the shelves, the Griffindor crest around its neck. A raven that was halfway out of the wall, wings half through and feathers spread, that bared the family seal of three rings entwined in ivy. There was also a Badge and surprisingly snake tile designs in the floor, along with the other two House animals.

The room was a mixture of warm, gold, red, and maroons, and several neutral colors. There was a table in the corner, where decorations were put and also parchments and documents. Brenna and Harry had stepped in, gaping. The ceiling was like the night sky, the stars twinkling. Harry smiled as he walked to the door, and yawned.

"I'm going to go to bed," he said.

Brenna turned and ran back to him. She embraced Harry and kissed him briefly, and said; "G'night, Harry," as she drew back.

Harry smiled, and walked up the boys' staircase to the forth door where he was roomed. Brenna watched as he opened the door, and their eyes met, and both stared before Harry finally entered his room. Sighing longingly, Brenna went into her room.

As her door shut, the Raven Plaque shook in silent mirth.


	11. So Much for Safety

**A/N:** Yay, summer break is finally here! And, seeing as how my friends are all grounded, I'm going to have a lot of free time. Goody for everybody!  
  
Ok, thank you for the reviews! I had to get this chapter out of the way so I could get on wit the next one, so I guess almost 20 reviews is good. Anyway, thanks for the reviews, really, but I feel that one person in particular, though the shall remain unnamed, deserves some answers...  
  
So, **Roxoan**, here ya go...  
  
Okay, Brenna is NOT taking over the DA. That was just a little "here-I-am" speech she gave so no one would be completely clueless.  
  
Also, Brenna doesn't know everybody. She picks up on conversations, and of course Kinglsey's told her about people. Plus, she gets the friggin _DAILY PROHPET_. And besides, the Order's been around for a while, okay? Her grandfather has been around for a while, too. People were bound to hear her name, or even meet her. Plus, if you read _thoroughly_ instead of _skimming_, you'd realize that several Order members were already residing at _her home_, meaning she's at least MET them. Also, don't you think that Dumbledore would have known these things, and told a certain few? THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX, MY GOOD MAN! THERE IS MORE TO IT THAN WHAT YOU SEE, JUST THINK ON IT!!!! But all in all, thank-you for reviewing!  
  
In the second chapter, her home is _like_ Hogwarts. Of course she doesn't _own _Hogwarts. Imagine, a sixteen-year-old elf owning a school! Sorry, I laughed at it.

Oh, and I don't give a rat's ass about my spelling. as long as the story gets through, what's it matter? it matters not, that's what!

oh well, for every 3 fans there is a critic. you are my critic, Roxoan, and I thank you  
  
Disclaimer: oh for heaven's sake go bloody well back if you wish to know whether or not if I own this miracle of the genius called J.K. Rowling  
  
Okay, long A/N...... to the story, hoh!!!  
  
**-----CHAPTER ELEVEN-----**  
  
The next few weeks went by without a hitch, well, except one. Brenna was required to take all of the classes the trio had to, meaning she had to build up knowledge they already had just in order to study for the assignments and understand the classes. Charms and Transfiguration were her finest classes, and she flatly refused and was not made to go to Potions. During said class, Harry remembered the incident...  
  
**-!-flashback-!-  
**  
Harry, Brenna, Ron and Hermione gathered their things after breakfast, and proceeded to the dungeons for Potions. The trio was dreading it, and Harry noticed Brenna steadily growing anxious and agitated, her one hand gripping the strap to her bag while her other threatened to break Harry's hand. He winced and gritted his teeth, knowing why she was feeling this way.  
  
Snape, they all knew, was an ex-Death Eater, and he bore the memories and the Dark Mark. Those were enough to send Brenna's senses off the charts, and as soon as they stepped into the dungeons by covering the last step, Brenna froze.  
  
Harry felt her stop, and turned to her. Harry and Hermione stopped as well; "Brenna," Harry said; "Come on, we'll be late, and-"  
  
"Harry, I can'," Brenna managed shakily, her eyes staring fearfully towards the Potions door.  
  
As if on cue, Snape opened the door, and began walking down the hallway. His robes billowed behind him, giving him the impression of a large and lethal bat. Brenna tried to walk away, but her feet seemed frozen to the floor. Harry calmly walked to her, and Hermione and Ron did as well.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter," Snape began, walking up to them; "You are to go to my classroom, and here the bell has sounded. You are late- _again_."  
  
Brenna was shaking. The Dark Mark seemed to create and aura that permeated the very air she breathed. Inhaling sharply, she took a step back, and Harry went with her.  
  
"Brenna, calm down!" he said, "Snape's on our side! Brenna-"  
  
Brenna let go of his hand, and managed; "I... I'll see ya in-n Transfiguration, H-Harry," her hazel-brown eyes stared at Snape's dark ones, and for a moment no one spoke.  
  
"Mr. Potter," Snape finally drawled; "Perhaps you should escort your..._friend_... elsewhere. I will give you ten minutes. Go."  
  
Harry stared at the Potions Master in disbelief. Snape was being _lenient_. Nodding, Harry took Brenna's hand again, and they walked off.  
  
"Brenna," Harry said when they entered the foyer and Brenna let out a sigh of relief; "You could sense it, couldn't you?"  
  
Brenna looked at him, then back down towards the dungeons; "Somethin' I nevva could ovacome, Harry," she said, sighing; "Et's natural. Mah fatha could, so could ever'one else on 'is side o' the family could. I knew there was one here, buh I nevva knew ooh," she looked at Harry; "Sorreh, if I embarrassed ya..."  
  
"You didn't," Harry said; "Come on, I could take you to-"  
  
"Harry, et's okay, I'll jus' bothah Madame Pomfrey 'til class ends," Brenna smiled; "I'll beh fine, I jus' don' need ta go down there again."  
  
"Okay, see you at Transfiguration then," Harry said, bidding her goodbye with a quick kiss on her cheek. Brenna smiled, and then walked up the stairs to head for the infirmary. Harry watched her go, then turned and ran for the Potions Room...  
  
**-!-end flashback-!-**  
  
Brenna found herself in the infirmary during Potions, sitting on a bed and reading one of Madam's many healing charms texts. She had gotten through the first chapter before losing interest and resorting to tracing the intricate borders of the cover. Sighing, she looked up and watched as Madame bustled around. Brenna shook her head and stood. She picked up the heavy school robe, and looked at it out of boredom. She hated that robe; it was too heavy for her liking. Brenna had tried walking around without it, but Dumbledore had pulled her aside saying that it was "unwise" to go without it. When she asked further, Dumbledore simply didn't give her a clear answer. Brenna hadn't liked it, but she complied.

Sighing, Brenna was about to put it on, when the door burst open.  
  
Seamus was helping a boy into the infirmary. Brenna thought she recognized the boy, but his face was covered in purple blotches and he was shaking violently. Seamus was having trouble supporting him, and Brenna, along with Madame, rushed over.  
  
"Seamus, wha' happened?" Brenna asked, then she saw who the boy was; "Zacharias Smith? Is that you?"  
  
Zacharias looked up; "Oh- oh, hello B-B-Brenna," he said, trying to smile; "Oh n-n-n-nothing ha-happened, I was j-j-just-"  
  
"You were attacked!" Seamus exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, come here, Zacharias," Madame said, taking the boy away to be tended to.  
  
Brenna turned to Seamus; "'E was attacked?"  
  
Seamus nodded; "Yeah," he replied, "We were walking back from Herbology, a few of us. We made it back to the fourth floor when we were ambushed by some Slytherins. Lavender and her friend left with the others, while Zach and I tried to sort it all out. In the end, I get hit and Zach gets hexed. I got him here and now..." he shrugged.  
  
"Where were ya hit?" Brenna asked.  
  
"Oh, just the shoulder, I'll live," Seamus said, consciously rubbing his left arm; "Brenna, it was that git Blaise and Pansy..."  
  
Brenna stared at him in disbelief; "No, weh... weh wiped their minds!" she protested quietly, shaking her head and crossing her arms as she looked away.  
  
"Apparently they still remembered enough," Seamus said, "Should I tell Harry and them?"  
  
"Yeah," Brenna said, nodding; "Ooh, and there's that meeting tonight," she muttered, rubbing her temples.  
  
"Well, I'm off," Seamus said, and with a good-bye, he exited the infirmary.  
  
Brenna walked outside, and leaned against the railing overlooking the hall below (see the 1st movie for reference; I don't really know how to describe it). She sighed, wondering what could have gone wrong with the potions. And now it wasn't safe to travel alone.  
  
Brenna's head snapped up as she heard rushed footsteps, and saw Professor Dumbledore, along with McGonagall, came rushing up.  
  
"Brenna, my Dear," Dumbledore said kindly; "What brings you here? Shouldn't you be at dinner?"  
  
"Ah," Brenna said, looking back towards the infirmary; "I was just headin' out, Professor;" she smiled, then quickly ran down the steps and down the hall.  
  
The two professors watched her go, then McGonagall said, more to herself than anyone; "The oddest child I've ever met. Oh, and there she goes without her robe-again-."  
  
Dumbledore nodded; "It happens," he said, "When you're forced to grow up to fast. As for the robe," he sighed with a chuckle; "She's just not used to the idea, I suppose. Now, let's see why Mister Smith was attacked. I doubt this is just a 'Rival House' issue."  
  
---  
  
Harry sat there at the table, listening as Seamus recounted the attack. Ron and Hermione, along with Ginny and Neville, were listening as well, all in numb shock.  
  
"And that's what happened," Seamus finished flatly.  
  
Harry ran a hand through his hair; "I thought those potions would have worked," he mused, looking up and around them all; "We'll just have to be more careful. Spread the word, all DA members should not walk alone from here on out. You can imagine there will be more of theses attacks if we don't."  
  
Seamus nodded, got up, and left. Neville and Ginny too moved down, leaving the trio to themselves.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said; "What's this big surprise you've got for tonight's meeting, anyway?"  
  
"It's not for the meeting," Harry said, "And it's really no surprise..."  
  
"Well, what is it?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry paused, looking at his two friends; "I asked Kasimir to come by..."  
  
"_That _**BLOODY VAMPIRE**?!" Ron shouted as he stood, but his next reply was muffled as Hermione placed her hands over his mouth and pulled him down into his seat  
  
"Yes," Harry replied, nodding.  
  
"Harry, what on earth are you thinking?" Hermione whispered fiercely, looking at him with wide, outraged eyes; "You can't just bring a vampire-"  
  
"Listen, Dumbledore knows," Harry said; "And, he promised he wouldn't hurt anybody."  
  
"Oh, and how can we trust a vampire's word?" Ron asked, once removing Hermione's hand.  
  
Harry sighed; "Look, I did some research," he said, and Hermione gasped; "Oh, come off it, Hermione, I don't just read the _Quidditch Weekly_," Harry retorted; "Anyway, I had to get into the restricted section, but I found some things out. Vampires are immortal-so are elves. Well, full-blooded elves... About a thousand years ago, they set up a sort of treaty, a bond sort of. In it, it stated that neither races would harm the other, and that they would not meddle in human affairs unless it was the only way to solving a problem. Kasimir won't harm anyone because he knows Brenna is aware of this treaty thing. Besides, he likes the idea of it all."  
  
"But, aren't all vampires evil, bloodthirsty murderers?" Ron asked.  
  
"Actually," Hermione said. She was desperate to have her say; "Not all vampires are like that. It all depends on who they are. Yes, some kill heedlessly, but others only kill if they absolutely_ have_ to. Some refuse to drink for too long so that their um... _food_ can keep living."  
  
Harry pointed at her; "That's Kasimir," he said.  
  
"Wait," Ron said, "Harry, we only met this guy once, and he never talked to us," Ron eyed his friend; "Alright, mate, out with it. Who have you been talking to?"  
  
Harry smiled; "No one really," he replied; "Kingsley's been wanting updates on the DA, as well as how Brenna's doing. He owls her, too, but he uses Squawk."  
  
"Another thing that puzzles me," Ron said, scratching behind his ear as he thought; "Where does he come in in all of this?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes; "Isn't it obvious?" she asked; "He's her godfather of sorts."  
  
"Another mystery," Ron moaned, resting his head on the table. Hermione patted him on the back.  
  
"Don't hurt yourself, Ron," she said, smiling.  
  
Ron shot her a mock glare, then sat up; "Well, I think I'll get started on all that homework Snape gave us," he said, rising.  
  
"Yeah, we should too," Hermione said as she and Harry got up as well. The trio walked out of Great Hall.  
  
As they made their way up the steps, the three could here a muffled conversation. Harry pulled the two behind a wall, and they listened intently.  
  
"Dumbledore, you must have fallen off your rocker... you've lost your mind!"  
  
"I assure you, Mister Shacklebolt, that I am indeed quite sane..."  
  
"Listen, Albus... I don't trust that... that... I don't trust Galstoph!"  
  
"Even when he and his clan have pledged allegiance to our side?"  
  
"Yes! Vampires can't be trusted. Hell, even some of the elves can't be trusted! Look at Brenna's brother, what makes you think _Kasimir_ isn't just waiting?"  
  
"Do not bring Brenna's family into this when it has nothing to do with her... Now, this has been a planned event. Kasimir has agreed to talk to them..."  
  
"...How many?"  
  
"Just Harry, Ron, and Hermione..."  
  
There was a sigh; "Fine, Albus, but if he cannot control his cravings and one of them is hurt..."  
  
"I myself shall take the blame... Now, since you are here, would you like to see your goddaughter?"  
  
"No, it's best she know I wasn't here. I have to get back to the ministry, anyway. After all, we're still searching for Black..."  
  
"When will you tell them?"  
  
"When we know for certain he's gone."  
  
They could here footsteps receding, and as soon as they were gone Ron broke out; "Brenna's got a brother?"  
  
"Shacklebolt is her godfather, I knew it!" Hermione said.  
  
"Well, com on," Harry said, "We should not have hear that."  
  
"Hey, when and where are we meeting Kasimir, anyway?"  
  
"After the DA meeting, at eleven thirty in Brenna's room," Harry replied.  
  
"Oh," the other two said in unison, then they began the assent to Griffindor Tower...  
  
**A/N:** Hmmmm...... Kasimir's coming... what ever could that mean? Review please. Notice, there will be questions answered next go-round, so those lost in the realms and are falling within deep abyss of confusion, and to those of you who are narcoleptic, fear not, you're minds shall be unclouded! (thunder-rhapsody)


	12. A Vampire's Trust and a Werewolf's Worry

_A/N:_ Hi all! I'm sorry this was late! FF.net "grounded" me after I tried to pass my author's note out as a chapter. They banned me for almost five days! Whatever. So, this chapter had better get reviews! Hell, this story better get reviews... all I'm saying is that silence isn't always golden.

oh, and _My Remus_ has no mustache! **The movie people got it wrong! wrong! look at the illustrations in the book, do you see a mustache? No, I don't!** sorry, I had to rant about something!  
  
Well, so much for me being a bitch until I got at least 27 reviews, huh? Hey, almost 25 is a great number! Thanks to you all who reviewed! Oh well, I'm on a roll right now!  
  
**_Roxoan_**, well, all I can say is **thank you** for replying.  
  
It's called "common courtesy". Brenna's just being nice. Oh, and read carefully.  
  
When Brenna says "that's Hogwarts", she's referring to the mountains on the horizon, which are the disguised wards to the school.  
  
Also, take note that I did put reference that Harry was looking around... _Harry opened his eyes, and gasped_. Also, this _is_ my first Harry potter fic. Check my profile; I haven't been around for a while. I did take some defense to your review, but then that comes naturally when you receive criticism. Also, yes, this _is_ starting out slow, because things have to _sink in_ and then _build up_. Don't worry, please be patient, oh, and tell everyone else you know to be patient as well.  
  
Disclaimer: oh for heaven's sake go bloody well back if you wish to know whether or not if I own this miracle created by the genius woman who is J.K. Rowling  
  
**-----CHAPTER TWELVE-----**  
  
"Harry, thess won' go well, I kin feel et..."  
  
"Brenna, calm down, everything's fine," Harry insisted.  
  
Brenna and Harry were in Brenna's room, Harry watching his girlfriend pace before the fireplace. Brenna had unbuttoned the cuffs to her shirt, discarded her robe, taken her shoes off, and loosened her tie in her anxiety attack. She was getting them regularly, and Harry couldn't figure out why. Yes, things school wise were getting worse, classes were only getting harder and the tension was building between the DA and some of the Slytherins. Plus, Anestrothea was having trouble recovering, even though the attack had been over a month and a half ago. And Kasimir was supposed to come.  
  
"Nah, nah, thess won' go well!" Brenna exclaimed, pulling her hair gently.  
  
Harry ushered her over to a couch, and sat down with her; "Brenna," he said, "Brenna, stop ruining your hair!" he took her hands in his, and looked her in the eye; "Calm down," he said rationally; "What's the point getting worked up?"  
  
"Wha's tha point?" Brenna asked, getting up again; "We've got _a_ _vampire_ _comin' here_! Are ya sure Dumbledore knows? Wha' about Hermione and Ron, thehh comin' too, righ'?"  
  
"Hermione's iffish about it all, Brenna," Harry said; "Ron's with her now, trying to talk her into it. But you know hermione..."  
  
"They won' let 'im come alone, ya know," Brenna mused, running her hands through her hair again; "Ah, I need somethin' ta calm me down. Um, Dobby, Linky, Elet?" she asked, looking around and clapping her hands.  
  
Harry stared at her oddly, thinking Brenna had finally lost it. But, he heard a small (pop!), and a female house elf appeared.  
  
"Linky, could you bring me some tea please?" Brenna asked kindly, looking at the elf. Again, her voice was clear like she was fresh from London; "And, some red wine for a visitor I'm having."  
  
The house elf, Linky, looked around Brenna, eyed Harry with her large, brown eyes. She then looked to Brenna, curtseyed, and with a small snap she was gone. Brenna sighed, and went back over to plop back down on the couch beside Harry. She leaned on him, and he wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"Bad day?" he asked, one eyebrow raising quirkily.  
  
Brenna looked up at him; "No," she said, sounding aghast; "I took a lovely stroll 'round tha lake, chatted wit' a sea monkey, then headed back ta find a lovely set o' chocolates wrapped wit' pretty pink ribbon on mah bed."  
  
"A hint?" Harry asked.  
  
Brenna laughed quietly; "Nah," she said, sitting up. Unwillingly, Harry let her rise; "Jus', got lettahs taday an' I'm jus' a little worked up from 'em."  
  
"About your grandfather?" Harry asked standing and moving over to the window.  
  
Brenna nodded, sighing as she leaned against the wall; "Yeah," she replied; "He's on a cane, now. May says that 'e'll be back ta business in no time."  
  
"You mean... he hasn't been working with the Order?" Harry asked, staring at her in disbelief.  
  
"Wehl, nah fe'ld wahk," Brenna said, rubbing her eyes and sighing.  
  
"Please don't start speaking in Montogneh, or whatever you call it," Harry begged, knowing that sigh.  
  
Brenna shook her head, then walked over to the fire and waited. Harry continued to watch the window. Ten minutes past, then the fires started turning green. Brenna let out a shriek of surprise, jumping up and rushing over to Harry. Harry chuckled and wrapped an arm around her, and they waited to see who would come from the flames. But Harry gripped his wand in his hand behind his back just in case.  
  
Remus Lupin's head appeared, then he slipped out of the fire; "Hello there, lovebirds," he said sweetly, getting up and dusting the soot and ash from his robes; "Didn't run into anything, did I?"  
  
"No, Remus," Harry said, frowning slightly as Brenna slipped from him. She went to open up the window.  
  
"I take it Mister Galstoph has yet to arrive?" Lupin asked, sitting down on one of the sofas.

"Nope," Harry said; "How are you, Remus?" he was referring ot the attacks.

"Oh, much better," Lupin said, "Tonks was released a week ago, and she's currently staying in her flat until everything gets back to normal."

"That's good to know," Brenna said quietly, looking down.

"Oh, when Anestrothae woke and found out he was at St. Mungo's, oh it was a sight!" Lupin said with a laugh. This caused Brenna to look up and smile. Her grandfather didn't much trust medi-witches other than the family employed one, May... "All the old man wanted was to be taken home to recover, but he couldn't get out of talking Ancientriss! You should have seen the nurses's faces! It was priceless! Oh, and when May tried to calm him down-!"  
  
There was a tiny snap, and Linky returned with a tray filled with four cups and a teapot, then a glass of deep red wine. She smiled to Lupin as she sat the tray on the coffee table, turned to Brenna, curtseyed, and left with another snap. Brenna quickly poured out three cups, handing one to Lupin.  
  
"Oh, why thank you, Brenna," he said gratefully, taking the cup.  
  
Brenna smiled, taking a cup of her own, "Harry?" she asked, motioning to the tea.  
  
Harry shook his head, moving to the open window.  
  
"So, how do you think Kasimir will come along?" Lupin mused, sipping on his tea.  
  
"Hmm, probably as a bat," Harry said, chuckling quietly. Lupin laughed quietly as well, but Brenna looked utterly confused; "Muggle reference," Harry said, looking at her briefly. Brenna nodded, rolled her eyes wearily, then sipped her tea.  
  
Harry watched the window. Against the moon, he saw a flying shape fast approaching. It was small, but separated into two. They were ravens; one was Squawk, obviously because the one had a letter attached to his long, gangly leg. The other seemed to be older, more elegant in its flight compared to the dart-about nature of Squawk.  
  
Harry backed away as the two ravens came in closer. Squawk came flying in, cawing awkwardly as he almost flew into a bookshelf before making a sharp turn to fly about the room. Finally, after a moment of indecision, he came to the conclusion to land on the armrest beside Brenna. He hopped up it, and nuzzled a lock of Brenna's hair. Brenna smiled and stroked his head, then set her tea cup down to take the letter.  
  
Harry looked at Squawk's companion, who now perched on the windowsill. Harry noticed that the breast feathers were tinged red, like blood. Its eyes glittered with knowing, and a little intrigue. Harry took a step back, giving the bird space.  
  
"Mister Galstoph," Harry said, and the bird nodded.  
  
At once, the bird landed on the floor. With a caw, it was surrounded by a dark glow, and grew larger. It grew and lost its feathers, wings traded in for arms and talon for legs and boots. Soon, the elegant frame of Kasimir Galstoph was standing in place of the bird. His black robes finally billowed around his body, and the transformation was complete. A cane appeared in his left hand, the pommel that of a silver raven's head.  
  
Squawk squawked indignantly from his perch, and Kasimir shot him a look; "Vell, you ver de von to choose our route," he remarked, smirking, then he looked back to Harry; "Mister Potter," he said regally, holding out a hand.  
  
Harry noticed how Kasimir's skin was not as pale as before, rather, almost a healthy tan. In fact, he seemed very taken care of and groomed. His face was not so pointed, giving him handsome features. Harry never the less shook Kasimir's hand, and then both walked over to the couches. Harry sat beside Brenna, while the other couch was taken by Kasimir. The vampire set his cane by his side, leaning it against the armrest.  
  
"Veren't dere supposed to be udders?" Kasimir asked as he reached over and took the glass of wine.  
  
"Oh, true," Lupin said, looking over at Brenna and Harry; "Where are-?"  
  
"Hermione wasn't up to it, so Ron stayed with her," Harry said.  
  
Both dark creatures nodded thoughtfully, Lupin sipping on his tea as Kasimir asked; "Vell, I am here, vhat questions do you have for me?" he sipped on his wine.  
  
"First off," Harry said; "Would you know anything about," he paused, searching for he right words. Brenna handed him the other cup of tea; "Thank you," Harry said to her, taking a sip; "Okay," he turned to Kasimir; "Say that... there's this veil... and if you fell through it... you'd... disappear... Would you still be alive after that?"  
  
Kasimir eyed him; "Hmm," he mused, sipping on his tea; "I do know ov dis veil dat you speak ov..." he looked over as Lupin coughed and rose, moving over to the window. Harry bowed his head, and Kasimir looked from on to the other, only his eyes following the two.  
  
"Somethin' happened," Brenna said, wrapping an arm around Harry comfortingly. Squawk even hopped over and nuzzled Harry's shoulder.  
  
Kasimir nodded; "Dis veil," he said; "Eet all depends on ooh falls through eet. Vhy do you ask? Oh," he said, "Never mind," he sipped on his wine.  
  
Harry nodded; "I've got another question," he said, looking up. Suddenly, his eyes seemed bloodshot.  
  
Kasimir nodded; "Suppose," Harry began, looking down; "how many dark creatures are on Voldermort-" Lupin and Kasimir both flinched, and Brenna even stiffened, though not visibly; "Sorry, well... how many are on _his_ side?"  
  
Kasimir sighed; "You von't have to vorry about vampires," he said, "My kind shall deal wit dem. As for other creatures, Ogres, Vervolves, dementors," Brenna shuddered at this, and Harry patted her hand for no apparent reason; "Nearly one t'ousand, as an estimate."  
  
Harry and Lupin both stared at Kasimir in disbelief, "All _together_?" Lupin asked.  
  
Kasimir nodded; "Yes," he said; "Dough, dey are all very spread apart... eet is not likely you vill vun across more dan twenty, all together, anyvays," he once more took a sip of his wine.  
  
"I have a question," Lupin suddenly said; "How come you are not on _their_ side? Why are you with ours?"  
  
Kasimir rolled his eyes and sighed; "Vhy am I constantly saying dis?" he asked; "I am no barbaric killing machine! Just because I vas bitten does not make me one of dem! I still have dignity, and a man beneath this dead shell! Do not badger me, Verevolf, for you are in no better a position!"  
  
His voice grew louder with every word, and the outburst brought on silence; "Mister Lupin," Brenna said after a minute; "Please, don' upset anybody. Kasimir," she looked at the vampire.  
  
Kasimir rose, facing Lupin with a heated stare. Lupin was looking at him angrily as well; "Ooh do you t'ink you are?" Kasimir said spitefully; "To dem, you are no better dan me. To dem, you are almost_ lower_ dan me. So vhy are you t'inking me untrustworthy? I am on dis side because I have t'ings to lose as vell!"  
  
"Yes, food, that's why you're on our side!" Lupin shouted; "Magic blood isn't healthy you, so Muggle blood best fits, doesn't it? As long as you have food, you're fine!"  
  
Kasimir's cane flew from its place and into his hand, and the vampire gripped in a vice-like hold; "I vould rather die eef I got de chance to fight for dis side," he said, nearly a hiss; "And blood is not food, but a life force. I need eet to _survive_, not to sooth a hungry yearning;" he paused; "I vill be here longer dan you, Remus, I vill have to live wit de choices your Ministry makes. I do not vant to see dis world go to Hell so quickly!" his voice was quieting, but still held that deathly hatred-filled tone; "I do not vant children growing up, afraid of to walk in de streets, afraid to leave deir homes... You remember vhat dat vas like, do you not, Remus? Den vhy do you deny me de feeling to prevent eet? I have a son, Remus, and dat is my main reason for fighting Voldermort! My wife died because of dat... _dat monster_, and I vill not see anyvon else I care about fall at his hands!"  
  
Remus was just staring at him, as were Brenna and Harry. Harry couldn't understand it for some reason, yet he could in another, odder aspect. On one hand, he had seen adults duke it out, but never a werewolf and vampire. There were reasons underlying this argument than let on. Harry knew not homosexually, Remus' heart had belonged to and only to Sirius', he knew that. And Kasimir apparently had had a wife. It must have something to do with both being dark creatures, night monsters, enemies fighting on their enemy's side...  
  
"And still, you think I should trust you?" Remus asked; "You killed somebody, Kasimir! And not just one... five!"  
  
"After you vent on your monthly rampage!" Kasimir nearly shouted; "Dose people vere dying, anyvay! After you attacked de t'ree from de Ministry, and de two others you _bit_! I vas _saving_ dem from a life of misery and persecution! You cannot blame me for covering your hide! I have for the past year! Ever since Sirius Black disappeared, I have made sure you do not go on a mindless rampage!"  
  
Lupin was shaking from anger now; "I believe that this meeting is finished," he finally said, trying to control his tone.  
  
Kasimir looked to Brenna and Harry; "I am sorry you bot' had to witness dis," he said, "Are dere anymore questions?"  
  
Harry and Brenna both shook their heads; "Den ve are finished here," Kasimir said, approaching the window. Lupin walked to the fire, and in a flash, both were gone. Squawk flew over and perched on the window, watching Kasimir fly off into the night.  
  
Harry and Brenna sat in silence, then Harry spoke; "Well, maybe Ron and Hermione shouldn't have come..."  
  
Brenna nodded; "I've nevva seen Kasimir look so... mad," she said.  
  
"Yeah, and Remus," Harry shook his head; "I should go to bed..."  
  
"No," Brenna said as Harry got up. She held his hand; "Please," she said, looking up at him worriedly; "I'm scared now, Harry. Please stay..."  
  
Harry smiled, and sat down; "Erm, what's that letter?" Harry asked, motioning to the letter Brenna had left on the table.

Brenna stared at it dully before picking it up, and opening it. Harry read it as well...

"Dear Miss Brenna McBennitae... we, of the Council, are displeasured to tell you that your brother, Ammil McNay, has escaped-"

Brenna gasped, covering her mouth. Harry looked at her, then continued...

"Due to this, it has been decreed that you shall henceforth reside at Hogwarts, under the safe and watchful care of Sir Albus Dumbledore, until it is secure for you to return to the Estate, where you will be moved to as soon as your brother is apprehended once again. You are by no means to walk outside alone. regardless of the wizard wards, as Sir Albus will be notified in his letter. If you must go to a wooded area for personal reasons, a guard will be sent for... Sincerely, Seresta Montage, matriarch of the Montage Line."

Harry stared at Brenna. She had let go of the letter, and was now crying into her hands; "Brenna?" Harry asked, holding the letter; "What-?"

His question was stopped as the letter crumbled into ash. Harry let the remains fal lto the floor, shaking his hand of the rest.

"Harry," Brenna said; "Weh're in trouble..."

"What?" Harry asked.

Brenna took her hands away, "I said... weh're in trouble. Et's not safe 'round me, anymore..." she covered her face with her hands again.

"Brenna, you're brother..."

"Will beh lookin' fah meh, yeah I know;" Brenna got up, and closed the window. Squawk cawwed quietly, and Brenna held out her hand. He hopped onto her wrist, and Brenna held the raven to her chest as she stroked its back. She sighed and looked out the window.

"You're brother, McNay," Harry said, getting up; "Why was he 'locked away'?"

Brenna closed her eyes; "'E turned ta Voldermort," she said quietly; "Mark an' all... 'e helped kill so many people... an' of mah own people..." she opened her eyes, fresh tears; "An' your magic canna stop 'im. 'E's found wats 'round it," she looked at Harry as he walked over; "I'm dead..."

"Not if I can help it," Harry said, wrapping his arms around her from behind and causing Squawk to fly off with an indignant caw. Harry rested his chin on Brenna's shoulder, though he had to lean down to accomplish it. Brenna sighed and held to his arms, closing her eyes. Harry stared at her, then did the same. The two stood there thinking until both grew weary. Harry could care less why McNay was after Brenna, or why the letter had referred to Dumbledore as "Sir". All that mattered was that Brenna was distressed and worried...

And what made it even odder was that Harry could vaguely feel it, tugging at the back of his mind like it was his own feelings he was trying to cover up.

---  
  
**A/N:** Thank you everybody for the reviews! Sorry this was so late, I was grounded by both FF.net and my mother. anyway, there ya go! Review! Review! Thanks!


	13. Nightmares of the Torch

A/N: Yay, summer break is finally here! And, seeing as how my friends are all grounded, I'm going to have a lot of free time. Goody for everybody!  
  
-----CHAPTER THIRTEEN -----  
  
_Oi, Tom Riddle? Where are you? I'm ba-ack!"  
  
Harry groaned, and turned around from the maps he had been poring over; "Ah, Ammil McNay, I wondered when you would be returning to our ranks." His voice resonated around the room, though quiet and raspy and not his own.  
  
"Yeah, I was in a bit of a spot, but I'm out now!"  
  
"... Something is different about you, Ammil..."  
  
"Oh well, you know how the council is! They think that they can wipe my mind, but no, I've got goodies of information for you!"  
  
_/He's finally gone completely mad/_ Harry thought, but never the less smirked; "Oh, and what would information that be?"  
  
McNay finally stepped out of the shadows. His hair was jet black and hanging around his face. He was obviously both sun and food deprived. His skin was pale and his cheek bones were evident. His almost black eyes seemed to glitter with insanity. His robes were black as well, boots slightly muddied like the rim of his coat. His gloves were torn, as if he'd been wrestling something thorny. The man was handsome yes, though very under-weight, but the power that radiated from him over-rode than and even had Harry on guard.  
  
McNay walked over, and sat down in a chair by the fire. They were in a study, and Harry turned fully to face the traitor elf; "Well?" Harry asked, now annoyed by the McNay's silence.  
  
"Oh," McNay said, watching as Nigeni [a/n: that's how you spell it, right?], Harry's snake, slithered around him dangerously. McNay kicked out at her, and she hissed before snaking over to Harry; "Ah yes, council's gone and hidden me sis, but I have an idea on where she is."  
  
"And tell me, Ammil, why does your sibling play a role in all of this?" Harry idly stroked Nigeni's head as the snake slithered up the table leg and then to his side.  
  
"Oh, ever heard of the 'Dark Torch of Anglithae?" McNay asked, looking up at Harry with those eyes. They glittered with power, Harry realized, angry, bloodthirsty power...  
  
"In fairy tales," Harry replied curtly.  
  
McNay managed a quiet laugh; "Ah, but this fairy tale is more than just a mere legend," he said, grinning wickedly; "Care to hear?"  
  
Harry sighed; "If it will help with my cause," he said finally. Harry walked over, and took a seat opposite of the elf, Nigeni wrapped around his arm. The snake slithered down, and curled up on the hearth.  
  
McNay cleared his voice; "A long time ago..."  
_

/Oh, here we go/ _Harry moaned in thought, settling into his chair.  
  
"The Council of Gengedelea [Gin-jeh-del-ay] came upon startling revelations that the wizarding race would soon be thrown into the seventh greatest battle..."  
  
"The Battle of the Nine Score," Harry mused, stroking his chin in thought.  
  
McNay nodded before continuing; "In an effort to aid the light against the dark, the Gengedelea Elves created a torch... A torch that, when lit, could glow and radiate for an era, offering power to the Light, while at the same time weakening the defenses of the Dark. Sadly though, this torch was no item or possession, but a living being... an elf, named Anglithae... Anglithae was oh, nearly two-hundred years old, so he knew what the Council asked of him.  
  
"I don't know what kind of ritual took place, but in the end, Anglithae's soul was taken from his body, and placed into a stone-"  
  
"What a tragic end," Harry muttered with an icy chuckle.  
  
McNay nodded; "Yes, but the stone was shattered in the battle. The Torch light gleamed so brightly, every darkened spirit was vanquished, every lightened soul was reborn. And like that-" the elf snapped his fingers "- The Torch was gone, back into the blood of Anglithae's descendents. Anglithae had three wives, mind you, and nearly twenty children. And when the light of the Torch never rose again, and the children grew old and had children of their own, the thought that it was still around all but diminished as the war upon my race escalated."  
  
Harry nodded; "And, this Torch," he said; "The Soul Beacon, as I remember it being called..." Harry stroked his chin again in thought; "You believe it is in your sister?"  
  
McNay nodded; "She holds power no mere Halfling should possess. She can feel things she is not meant to sense. She can bond with a person, something she is not supposed to do with her tainted blood..." he added darkly, glaring at the flames.  
  
Harry chuckled; "Glad you see my perspective," he said; "Now, is she a large threat? Does she even know?"  
  
"Only I, my dead father and step mother, and my damned grandfather have read the signs," McNay said; "And nay, she knows not."  
  
"Glad you are talking sensibly and soberly," Harry remarked, rising.  
  
"The glow of freedom has worn off," McNay said distantly, as if to himself; "When I can, I'll begin the search and end this before she learns of it..."  
  
Harry nodded as she rose; "Tell me, Ammil," he said as he moved over to a shelf; "Can normal Wizarding wards protect her?"  
  
"Only a few," McNay mused; "Those of old, very ancient spells..." he paused; "But nay, not many..."  
  
Harry nodded as he removed a dust covered small chest from the second to highest shelves, and set it down on the table. With a wave of his hand the dust was gone, revealing a finely carved mahogany chest with engravings along the lid. The engravings were mostly dragons, a few wolves, and a single raven in the center. Ivy was entangling it, and it was a carving frozen in a terrified struggle.  
  
Curious, McNay rose; "What is that, Riddle?" he asked.  
  
Harry did not lash out at McNay like he would have killed others for referring to his real name. McNay was an associate, not a follower. He had taken the mark as a deal, not as a vow of servitude. They saw the same light and shared the same views. It was a very good partnership Harry had to admit, though McNay did not have a cult of worthy followers like he did.  
  
Harry merely smirked as a reply, though, and opened the chest. He lifted the lid up, and McNay's breath hitched in fearful surprise before taking a step back. Harry pulled out a dagger, the blade black as night, mixing with the hilt perfectly. The only way to tell blade from hilt apart was the crimson ruby in the center. Harry turned and took the sheath, then turned to see McNay backing away towards the fire.  
  
"Ammil, it will not harm you," Harry said.  
  
"I can take care of things by my own means," McNay said, his sure tone defying the look in his eyes.  
  
"Then you know what this is," Harry mused, sheathing the dagger.  
  
McNay nodded; "It brought a downfall to the Gengedelea," he said hoarsely; "I thought it was destroyed."  
  
"Well, apparently not," Harry mused, turning the weapon around in his hands and grinning evilly; "Use it. It will let those hiding know. And, if you could, take out several others with it. This blade craves for blood, like the dragon it was forged from."  
  
"The damn dragon was slain as well, if you remember the tales," McNay said coolly, his eyes icy over with anger; "I refuse to touch that blade," he crossed his arms and turned towards the fire.  
  
"Suit yourself," Harry said; "I will use it."  
  
McNay turned his head to look at him, slowly comin around; "What?" he asked, eyes widening slightly.  
  
Harry nodded; "Yes, if you cannot kill with it, then I will find a way-"  
  
"You can kill anyone with anything," McNay scoffed; "But why that blade?"  
  
Harry grinned evilly again; "Because it will leave lasting impressions, seeing as how the dragon was killed by the Torch itself, and it craves for revenge..."  
  
McNay began to laugh, and Harry found himself chuckling maliciously..._

With a cry of pain, Harry jolted from his bed, landing on the floor with his hands clasped around his forehead. His scar burned so badly he thought blood would pour from it at any moment and cause his death. Harry panted from lack of breath, the sickening feeling of wicked pleasure causing him to nearly vomit. Bile came up his throat, and Harry managed to stand and make his way to the door before collapsing in pain again. Breathing raggedly, Harry got up, and made his way to the bathroom. He finally made it, went to the nearest stall, and hurled for all his worth.  
  
The pain in his scar finally receded, and Harry looked up from the toilet bowl after three heaves. His had a massive headache. Struggling to his feet again, he trudged over to the sink and washed himself off. Thankfully, no T- shirt meant no nasty mess. As Harry cleaned himself up, he couldn't help but shiver from the dream. It had happened again, he had become one with Voldermort just long enough. And he now knew something he feared Brenna did not.  
  
Over the past months, Harry's scar had only hurt on one occasion, when the traitor Death Eater, Karkaroff, was apprehended. He had had a nightmare of Voldermort storming around a residence, cursing and shouting and hexing everything that moved or didn't, it didn't matter to the Dark Lord. And of course his scar bothered him on random occasions, but he was getting control over it. But this occurrence, he actually got sick...  
  
And the feeling was still there. Voldermort was malicious. And McNay was sick. He was willing to kill a blood relative. And how Voldermort had thought about their "partnership"... McNay had taken the Mark when Voldermort first put it on his own flesh.  
  
Harry made his mind up then and there. Going back to the dorm, he hurriedly put on a pair of pants and a shirt, and then took his wand, the Marauder's Map, and his invisibility cloak. Tucking his wand behind his waste band and putting the map in his pocket, he then draped the cloak over him. Harry then made his way down the stairs, pausing only to catch his breath. He was about to hurl again, but fought the feeling down and continued.  
  
Harry checked Brenna room, pulling the cloak from his head to look at the raven plague; "Hey, raven!" Harry hissed.  
  
The raven came to life, head coming free from the plague and gazing at Harry. Its eyes were now vibrant, seemingly glittering with life, rubies, shining in the torchlight; "What say ye, Master Potter?" it asked.  
  
Harry stared at the 3D head for a moment, then continued; "Is Brenna okay?" he asked.  
  
The plague eyed him; "Aye, she sleeps," he said after a pause; "A message ye must give her?"  
  
Harry shook his head; "No," he said, donning the cloak to cover him again.  
  
The plague eyed the now vacant spot, then chuckled; "As ye be, Master Potter."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, continued down the steps, went through the common room, then out through the Portrait hole. The Fat Lady was startled to see no one come from the hole, but figured as much when she heard Harry cough; "Be careful, who ever you are," she said quietly.  
  
Harry chanced a look at the portrait, then continued going. He stopped, leaned against the wall, and checked the Map. Good, Harry thought, Filch is on the first floor... Folding the map up again, Harry continued until he reached a familiar stone gargoyle. Whispering the password ["chocolate covered mice"], the gargoyle revealed the staircase, and Harry rode it to the top. He sighed, and then opened the door.  
  
Harry was lucky he had worn the cloak, because Dumbledore and Anestrothea were arguing loudly. Well, Anestrothea was the loud one. Dumbledore was just trying to keep calm. Harry came in and shut the door quickly, and neither noticed.  
  
"Anestrothea, please," Dumbledore said, "Calm down! I am aware of the circumstances as well, and-"  
  
"Calm down?! Calm down?!" Anestrothea said, getting up and taking his cane in his hand; "Albus, do you not understand the seriousness of this? Ammil has escaped! He killed three wizards and an elf on his way to freedom! As we speak he's coming here for my granddaughter!"  
  
"No, he's not yet..."  
  
Albus and Anestrothea looked to the door just in time to see Harry take the Invisibility Cloak off, and sling it over his shoulder; "Professor, I came to tell you something," he said, "But, I suppose it would help Mister Anestrothea as well..."  
  
"Come, Harry, sit," Dumbledore said, waving him over; "You as well, Anestrothea, please do calm down."  
  
Anestrothea and Harry sat down; "What did you wish to tell me?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry intently. The familiar twinkle had nearly gone from his eyes though he still held that warm gaze; "You must have had another vision, given the late hours... am I correct?"  
  
Harry nodded; "Professor, McNay's escaped and he was talking to Voldermort," Anestrothea stiffened at both names; "And they were talking about how Brenna's a reincarnation of some Torch-!"  
  
"The Dark Torch of Anglithae?" Anestrothea suddenly asked; "Come on, out with it, Harry!"  
  
"Yes!" Harry said, slightly taken aback; "And then, Voldermort was going on about just killing Brenna to solve the problems that she'd bring to their 'cause'!"  
  
"Oh no," Anestrothea moaned, getting up, cane in hand; "No, no, no!" he walked over to the nearest window, his face going pale and gaze now ashen. He stroked his beard, then looked to Harry; "My Boy, did McNay recall a tale, around the seventh battle?"  
  
Harry nodded, and Dumbledore sighed; "And I thought it was only in fairy tales," he mused, taking his spectacles off and cleaning them with the hem of his robe sleeve.  
  
"No, no this is not good," Anestrothea moaned; "Harry... did Ammil know where Brenna was?"  
  
"He said 'he had an idea'," Harry said, "Sir, does Brenna even know this?"  
  
Anestrothea shook his head and turned to stare outside; "No, she does not," he said gravely; "We never thought. Amadeus had a vague idea, and Brenna's mother, Sonya, based her assumptions on instinct. We thought it was just a phase, something where her abilities would bloom, then dull down again. It's been happening a lot though, lately, with all the attacks!" he said as he sighed, rubbing his eyes; "I should have come to the conclusions earlier, how could I have been so stupid?"  
  
"Anestrothea, though it is not exactly my place as to be saying," Dumbledore said, his tone hinting morose; "But... if memory serves... Anglithae was... killed, was he not?"  
  
Harry's mind froze... _killed? No, that didn't mean_...  
  
"I know what happened, Albus," Anestrothea said in a strained tone, glancing at the wizard before looking out the window again; "My Brenna will not die..."  
  
"She's been having headaches," Harry suddenly blurted out, getting up; "And she can't get her spells out properly sometimes. She's fumbling, she's sensitive to everything around her, she can't go near the dungeons any more for obvious reasons, and _then _she's getting anxiety attacks!"  
  
"Perhaps she needs to take leave for a time, until she can recuperate," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Albus, this is not just some common magical malady," Anestrothea said gravely. When he turned around, he suddenly looked ragged and tired; "I am too old for this," he groaned as he sat in his seat again; "Albus, we must keep an eye on her. If Brenna were to collapse, or start sending waves of power," his voice trailed off as he shook his head and wearily rubbed his eyes again.  
  
"Ron, Hermione, and I know Brenna better than anyone else who's been here," Harry said; "We've been watching out for her, like she has us. Don't worry, sir, we'll keep an eye on her."  
  
"She mustn't know," Anestrothea said, "She cannot know. Harry, you cannot tell her! If Brenna were to find out, she would collapse. She cannot know yet..." he finished with a sigh, rising again; "The Council calls," he said after a moment of silence; "I must alert them that indeed, Brenna is indeed the _ame ne'balsneir_. Albus," he looked at the wizard; "Watch her for me," and with that, Anestrothea closed his eyes, gripped his cane, and sighed. The butt of the cane came crashing down onto the stone floor, and like a mist blown by wind, Anestrothea was gone.  
  
Harry and Dumbledore sat there in silence, staring at the place where Anestrothea had been moments before.  
  
"Professor," Harry finally managed; "What did he call Brenna again?"  
  
"_Ame ne'balsneir_," Dumbledore replied sullenly; "One ending-light."  
  
"... You speak Ancientriss?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed wearily; "Sadly, Harry, I only know that phrase, and two others. The two in question, well, they are best not repeated in these circumstances. Now, I suppose you had best return to Griffindor Tower, and check on Brenna."  
  
Harry nodded, and wrapped the invisibility cloak over him again; "How can I not tell her, Professor?" he asked, only his head and hands visible; "Brenna would never forgive me if she found out I was keeping –this- from her."  
  
"Sadly, Harry, I must insist that you do," Dumbledore said, "It is for her own safety."  
  
Harry nodded, became fully clothed under the cloak, and departed, mind swimming in a pool of unwanted thoughts.  
  
---  
  
Harry reentered the Griffindor Common Room nearly thirty minutes later, and saw Hermione and Ron both waiting for him. They jumped from their place on the couch when he took the Cloak off, and rushed him.  
  
"Harry, where'n the hell have you been?" Ron nearly shouted; "When I got up and saw your bed was empty I freaked!"  
  
"What were you thinking, anyway?" Hermione asked; "Harry, what if you got into trouble? And I don't mean getting caught by Filch-!"  
  
"Guys, will you just be quiet?" Harry said loudly when they continued, walking over and plopping down in a chair by the fire. He glanced up at the clock. It was still too early for anyone to be up and about.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said when she saw the look in his eyes. The emerald pools were almost void in a mixture of thought and regret; "What's wrong?"  
  
"Yeah, mate, what's eating you?" Ron asked as the two moved and sat down as well; "Come on, you can tell us anything."  
  
Harry looked around, before sighing and looking at the fire again; "It's about Brenna," he said quietly.  
  
"Oi, troubles in paradise?" Ron asked with a half-hearted laugh. But when Harry seemed unfazed, he stopped.  
  
"For her," Harry muttered, looking down.  
  
"What about her?" Hermione asked, shooting Ron a look.  
  
And so Harry told them, about his dream, about McNay, The Dark Torch, everything. Harry would constantly pause, to listen and look to see if Brenna or anyone else would happen to be eavesdropping.  
  
"...And she can't know," Harry finished, sighing and looking away from his friends.  
  
Ron and Hermione sat in silence, until Ron spoke; "That's unfair," he said, "It's about her, for cryin' out loud! She _deserves _to know!"  
  
"No, she can't!" Hermione suddenly said, facing him; "If she did, and her mind couldn't handle it, her powers might... _explode_!" she said, exaggerating by moving her hands in the shape of a mushroom cloud; "I completely side with Dumbledore on this, he's right. Brenna's in a state as it is, anyway! If we told her something like this, oh gods know what could happen!" she got up, and said; "I think I'm going to go to bed. Harry... Harry?" she looked around.  
  
Harry had departed, leaving the Invisibility Cloak behind. Ron got up, walked over, and took it, then he turned to Hermione; "I take it he's gone to bed," he said flatly.  
  
Hermione nodded, walking over to the stairs with Ron; "Well... good night, Ron," she said, then she went up to her dorm.  
  
Ron watched her, then walked up to his dorm room. He entered quietly, inwardly sighing as he saw Neville, Dean, and Seamus were all still fast asleep. Harry though, was standing at the window, arms crossed and eyes closed with his brow slightly furrowed in thought. Ron sighed aloud this time, quietly walking over and dumping the Invisibility Cloak on Harry's bed. He then took his slippers and climbed into his own bed. He watched Harry in his depressing state, before rolling over and finally slipping into the realms of a fitful slumber.  
  
---  
  
Harry couldn't understand why Brenna didn't deserve to know. Yes, he knew she would freak, that was Brenna. She would no matter how she found out. Harry was more worried about if she found out through an outside source, though... what would happen between them? Brenna found it hard to trust people, and though she had been kind to Harry when they first met, he knew that it took a month for a wall to come down finally and allow him into her inner circle where so few dwelled near her heart.  
  
She confided to him on one occurrence that she only trusted the Trio and Dumbledore, and no one else. Harry found it hard at first to see why she didn't trust many people, but then her past wasn't all about daisies and the magical land of teddy bears and gumdrops.  
  
Harry sighed. It was just no use. His life was falling back into that pattern he thought he had gotten out of, that routine appearance of a secret, mystery, and sadness. Sadness didn't cover it. He felt for Brenna, for everyone. And it was all Voldermort's fault. Well, for Harry's ordeals, for Brenna, it was her brother...  
  
-Her own brother-, Harry thought, shaking his head and clenching his fists. He opened his eyes and stared outside. –I thought my family was dysfunctional, at least they wouldn't go to such lengths like trying to kill me-. Harry sighed. –I won't let him touch Brenna... no, he won't take away the one I care for most... no, I'll even go to kill him over Voldermort... that bastard...-  
  
-/Bastard indeed/-  
  
Harry spun around. He had heard that, but it wasn't a natural voice. _I'm losing it_, he thought, looking around as he took his wand.  
  
-/By de window, Mister Potter.../-  
  
Harry spun back around, glancing around the frame of the glass before the ledge. Outside, was a bird, a... raven?  
  
_How the hell...?_ Harry thought fearfully, stepping back.  
  
-/Eet is me, Kasimir/- the voice filled his head, and Harry stared at the bird. It was eyeing him, the glittering eyes alive like before. Now, when Harry peered closer, he saw the crimson tainted feathers.  
  
_Um..._ Harry thought.  
  
-/I can here you, eet is telah-pathy/-  
  
_...What do you want?  
_  
-/Brenna, how does she fair?/-  
  
_Fine...  
_  
-/Very unlikely... does she know ov her heritage?/-  
  
Harry dropped to his knees, and went to the window. He opened it, causing Kasimir to flutter away briefly before perching again.  
  
"How do you know?" Harry whispered fiercely, looking around to make sure he was not overheard.  
  
Kasimir tried to peer over Harry's shoulder, before cocking his head to the side and eyeing Harry critically. -/I have alvays known, Mister Potter. I vonce overheard a conversation between Anestrothea and McNay a long, long time ago.../-  
  
Harry's blood began to boil in anger at the name; "Don't bring him into this," he whispered warningly.  
  
Kasimir took a step back. -/So sorry/- he replied. -/I deed not know you knew... Anyvay, do you t'ink you should tell her?/-  
  
"Everyone says 'don't'," Harry said quietly, leaning against the wall and facing the raven-vampire; "But... I'm not sure..."  
  
-/Eet is not fair, dat she does not know... but trust my word/- Kasimir paused. -/She vill not take eet vell at all. T'ings could happen to her. Do not risk Brenna's safety/-  
  
"Why the sudden interest, anyway?" Harry asked  
  
Kasimir sighed, and shook his head. -/Vhen you have lived as long as I, eet is de simple t'ings dat keep you going. Brenna showed me somet'ing I had not seen since my wife showed me... Trust/- he fluttered his wings, and cawed as he looked around. -/Dere is a cat vatching me, I must depart/-. He looked at Harry. -/Make sure she is happy, Harry. Dat is all Brenna wants/-  
  
Before Harry got the chance, Kasimir cawed again and flew away.  
  
Harry watched Kasimir fly off. After three weeks, the vampire just shows up, expresses his concern and gives solemn advice, then leaves. Harry smiled as he closed the window and stood, walking over to his bed and climbing in. he pulled the covers to his chin, rolling over and closing his eyes. It still didn't save him from nightmares of his friends' deaths and Brenna's life he invisioned.

---  
  
_**A/N:**_ there, Mary Sue my ass, that's Brenna's reason of existence, so live with it. Hah, didn't expect that though, did you? Hmm, what shall happen next? I doubt I shall know, for my muse craves reviews... (thunder-rhapsody)

**Tanslations:**

_Ame ne'balsneir [ahm-eh-neh-bail-sneer]:_ Sole[only one] Ending Light

_Gengedelea [Gin-jeh-del-ay]: _Council of the Wise


	14. Fate the Bitch, Destiny the Giver

A/N: I'm sorry this is so late, guys! I have VBS you know, and it's an all day thing because we have to stay afterward and prepare for tomorrow. Anyway, I'm back now so on with the show.  
  
_Disclaimer:_ Do you own anything? Would you mind sharing? Be nice, we want some cake too. Oh, bloody hypocrites, be that way. I'll just sit here with my fan fiction and twiddle my thumbs.  
  
**-----CHAPTER FOURTEEN -----**  
  
Another attack.  
  
Six people who were in the DA had been attacked, Zacharias Smith, Padma, two fourth year Hufflepuffs, a seventh year Ravenclaw, and now Luna. They had caught the poor girl walking from Great Hall to the bathroom. It was Pansy and Millicent Bulstrode this time, the whole quartet knew.  
  
It angered Harry that the Slytherins had finally attacked one of his friends. Yes, the other casualties had mattered, but Luna had been through enough, let alone her getting attacked. After talking to her at the end of fifth year, Harry vowed to be nothing less than kind to her. Now, this had made him furious.  
  
"Harry, she'll be fine," Hermione assured later as they sat around the table in Great Hall for lunch.  
  
"Yeah, Harry, Mione's righ'," Brenna said, patting Harry's hand underneath the table. Harry smiled to her, but she knew it was forced. Harry took her hand, and squeezed her gently. Brenna smiled too, but it was her eyes that got him. They were worried.  
  
_Worry_... people seemed to be worrying a lot lately about him...  
  
"Well, I'm close to just beating Malfoy's face in," Ron said, "We all know he's the leader, he's the damn Prince of Slytherin for cryin' out loud;" he took apiece of toast in his hand, glancing up. Ron was still paranoid over the first of many Squawk incidents.  
  
"Ron, Squawk's deliverin' mail fa meh," Brenna said, rolling her eyes.  
  
"It makes me so angry," Harry suddenly said under his breath, getting up. Because he was holding Brenna's hand, she was brought up as well; "Oh, sorry," Harry said, blushing slightly when he turned to her.  
  
"Et's okay," Brenna said, smiling kindly as he let go of her hand.  
  
"I need some air," Harry said, "I won't be long," that said, he turned, and quickly left the Hall.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked, taking a huge chunk out of his toast.  
  
"Ba' Dreams," Brenna said quickly, before walking after him.  
  
Hermione and Ron looked at each other, then both bowed their heads and sighed; "should we go too, for the hell of it?" Ron asked, raising his head with Hermione's.  
  
"No," Hermione said; "Something tells me even Brenna can't help in this, what good would we do?"  
  
Ron nodded, and then went back to breakfast.  
  
---  
  
Harry walked all the way to the lake, shouting in an effort to vent suppressed anger and kicking out at the pebbles that marked the path. He came to the water edge, half-wishing that the squid would just reach out and take him. Harry backed away though when the water began to bubble, and went to start walking around it, tugging at his raven locks as he did. It was just too much; Luna's attack had switched something on. Harry shouted again, balling his hands into fists and leaning his head up, towards the skies and the heavens that were supposed to show him mercy.  
  
Harry couldn't contain his anger, his sadness. Sadness didn't cover it. Between the things he was finding out, the DA attacks, the Prophets daily reports on Death Eater Attacks and the causalities that kept building up; Harry had continually told himself it was all because of him.  
  
_Me_, Harry thought, closing his eyes and bowing his head, _it's all because of me and my stupidity... and my 'luck'..._ Harry dropped to his knees, pulling grass up by his fingers. He let it go, and let out a shaky sigh.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry looked up and to his left, to see Brenna standing some feet away. One fist was held over her heart as she gazed at him, pain evident in her brown-hazel eyes.  
  
"Why do ya feel like thess?" she asked, walking over to him. Harry hung his head again and sighed. So Brenna knew how he felt as well.  
  
Brenna bent down beside him, and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. Harry laid a hand over her two clasped together in front of him, and sighed.  
  
"It's all because of me," Harry said, fighting tears.  
  
Brenna closed her eyes; "Nah et's not," she said quietly; "Ya can't choose wha' card Fate gives ya, Harry..."  
  
"Fate's a bitch," Harry muttered, glaring at the lake; "I've lost my parents, my godfather, my childhood, I've got a bloody loon who wants my head at his feet..." he shook his head and sighed again; "And, when I met you, Brenna, my life brightened up so much," he looked at her; "But, then I've learnt things, and even seeing you every day can't override this," he looked away, closing his eyes. A single tear managed to escape; Harry didn't bother to wipe it away.  
  
Brenna didn't know whether to be flattered that Harry cared that must, or appalled by what he had said, so she let it pass; "Harry, please lessen ta meh," she said, "Look ah meh," she said, and Harry did; "Ya speak like weh're livin' in hell, when weh'll on'y end up there if ya fail. Harry, Fate may be a bitch, but even a bitch like Fate es smart enough ta know wha' ya have ta do. Do ya know how great ya are, how great ya could be-?"  
  
"Don't feed me that," Harry said.  
  
"Wha d'ya want meh ta tell ya?" Brenna asked; "Harry, I won' lie to ya jus' so ya kin push things deeper in."  
  
"I'm not hiding anything," Harry whispered, turning to face her.  
  
"I feel et, Harry," she said, "Nah so much, buh et's there, in tha back o' mah mind. I know ya're lyin' ta yaself. Harry, ya aren't meant ta beh a hero, on'y ta do wha' ya where meant ta do! Tha's et!" she said, looking at him; "Quit feedin' thess notion tha' ya're bound ta die!"  
  
Harry stared at her; "You think I _want_ to believe that?" he asked; "You think that I want to even think that I'll die? Well, I _know_ that's what _they_ think."  
  
"An' ooh's thehh?" Brenna asked quietly; "Harry, screw tha world, thehh don' know wha' ya do, wha' I do. Thehh on'y know wha' thehh hear an' see;" she leaned into him, "Please, I canna help ya much more on thess. Get betta, Harry, be happier. Ya've got nah reason fa ya ta be missin' out on thess life."  
  
Harry looked away, and closed his eyes. She's right, he thought, but I can't seem to except it. Everything seems to be my fault, no matter how I look at it...  
  
"You just... don't know, though..." he said, almost inaudibly.  
  
"Harry," Brenna said; "Ya're right, I don' know. Buh, I love ya, Harry, I worry 'bout ya. Too much, some would say," she added quietly; "Buh... I don' care wha' some say. I on'y care 'bout your well bein'..." she looked at him pleadingly; "Know tha', Harry..."  
  
"I do," Harry said, opening his eyes and staring out at the clouding sky's reflection on the lake water; "Brenna... that's what keeps me here," he said, looking at her; "The fact that I am loved, and if I did... die... people would miss me, no matter what. It's you, Hermione, the Weasley's, every one of my friends that keeps me here..."  
  
Brenna looked at him; "Et should beh more than tha', wha' keeps ya here," she said, "Don' ya have anythin' else ta live for? A future? A family? Anythin' at all?"  
  
Harry sighed and shook his head; "I never thought about it," he said; "Well, a job yes, but nothing more than what I could live off of. I never expected to make it long enough to marry, let alone have children..." he sighed; "It just... gets to me, you know, it catches up if I forget about it... or try to, anyway," he paused; "Thanks, Brenna," he said, giving her a half- hearted smile as he looked at her.  
  
Brenna smiled, wiping the tear-line from his face; "Harry," she said, taking her arms away.  
  
Harry took her hands in his, and turned so that he was facing her. Leaning in, he planted a kiss on her lips, the warm feeling rushing over him as it did her. It was a short meeting, but it did Harry all the good in the world.  
  
And when it tugged at the back of his mind, Harry pulled away. It wasn't Brenna... it was his guilt. Harry couldn't stand not being able to tell her.  
  
"We should ah, get back inside," Harry said, rising and helping Brenna up; "Got Transfiguration next, you know."  
  
Brenna nodded; "Look, ya're covered in grass," she nagged, wiping the grass from his robes.  
  
"Ooh, _sorry, Hermione_," Harry said jokingly.  
  
"Nah I know ya didn't jus' call meh tha'," Brenna said, trying to glare at him.  
  
Harry laughed at her face, a scowl did not fit her well; "Well, what if I did?" he asked, starting to back away. He laughed as Brenna let out a shout and started chasing him, and Harry turned and started running.  
  
They made it just past the Whomping Willow before she tackled him. Harry rolled over as he hit the ground, Brenna sticking above him and straddling. She pinned his wrists to the ground, and Harry let her, though he knew he could quickly turn the tables.  
  
"I guess I'd have ta teach ya a lesson," Brenna said coyly, smiling.  
  
"Ooh, I'm scared," Harry said, smiling as he turned the tables and found himself pinning Brenna to the ground; "And tackling me was very unladylike, I'll have you know," he commented, "It should be me who should be punishing you," he leaned in, so close their noses almost touched.  
  
Brenna smiled; "Yeah, go ahead, Pa-pa isn't here, I kin act any way I want..."  
  
Harry smirked, but before he could continue, they heard another sneer; "Oh, how sickening. Someone didn't throw the trash out far enough."  
  
Harry and Brenna separated, both getting up quickly, Harry holding his wand out while the other was held out, keeping ushering Brenna behind him slightly. There was Draco, with Blaise and Pansy behind him.  
  
"Well, well, well," Draco said, smirking; "What do we have here?" he eyed Brenna, saw Harry's flushed face, angry face, and laughed; "Oh, I see, did we interrupt anything?" he sneered.  
  
"Why don't you sod off, Malfoy," Harry retorted harshly; "Or, by the looks of it, get on to have that threesome."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously, and at the same time Blaise drew his wand; "Watch it, Potter," he warned, glaring at Harry.  
  
"Come on, Harry," Brenna said; "Remembah, we can' get inta any more trouble."  
  
Harry nodded, his eyes not leaving Draco's in a glaring match. As they turned to leave, Pansy sneered "Yes, listen to your bitch, Potter. I'm sure you could find a nice broom closet later."  
  
Harry stopped, and dangerously turned to face her; "What did you call Brenna?" he asked, seething.  
  
Brenna too had stopped and turned, watching Pansy. _Same pug nose_, she thought, _damn, a Parkinson...  
_  
"Harry," Brenna said; "Et don' bothah meh, let's go-" But Harry held his hand up to silence her.  
  
"What did you call her?" Harry repeated loudly, hand lowering and wand drawn.  
  
Draco drew his wand as well; "What, think you can take us both, Potter?" he asked, smirking.  
  
Harry glared at him; "I have survived Voldermort," he said, making the Slytherins cringe, "I have fought him, and I survived. I know I could take you both, Malfoy, for all three of you together are no where nearly as threatening as he is," he lowered his wand, "And I refuse to lower myself to Slytherin standards," he went over to Brenna; "Let's go," he said, wrapping an arm around her.  
  
"_Crucio_!"  
  
"_**Lavitica Sero**_!"  
  
Brenna had drawn her "wand", turned around (Harry with his arm still around her), and had cast a defense charm, creating a shimmering mist-like shield in front of Harry and her. The curse streaked on towards it, towards Harry's side.  
  
Blaise had cast the spell, but now it threatened to hit him as it bounce off the shield Brenna's spell had produced around Harry and her. Blaise shouted as he dodged the attack, Pansy and Draco turning to watch him, thought both were still recovering from the shock of Harry's blatancy.  
  
When they turned around, Harry and Brenna were gone. Draco shouted with rage, turning on Pansy and a Blaise who was untangling himself from bushes he had dove into.  
  
"YOU BLOCKHEAD, WHAT THE **HELL** CAME OVER YOU!?" Draco shouted.  
  
---  
  
"Harry, I said et didn' bothah me!" Brenna said when she and Harry went into the school. Harry knew they would be late, the last of the people were leaving the Great Hall.  
  
"I'm sorry, alright?" Harry said; "I wasn't thinking, all I heard was Pansy call you that, and I found myself about to hex her or something!"  
  
"Don' beh so clouded, Harry! Blaise tried ta curse ya..." she said, backing out of his grasp and walking towards the stairs; "I've got ta get mah things," she said smugly as she ascended them.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry said again to her back. Brenna stopped, then after a pause kept walking. Harry felt the tug of her worry, and another of even more guilt. Sighing, he followed her, keeping her within eye shot, though knowing that Brenna needed space. But he couldn't let her travel the halls alone, so he caught up. He walked a few paces behind her, rubbing the back of his neck and inwardly sighing.  
  
---  
  
Brenna and Harry ran into the Transfiguration class, about a minute before the bell, and found seats. They took the table behind Ron and Hermione's, who both turned and faced them.  
  
"Where'd you run off to, Harry?" Ron asked quietly; "Looked a bit miffed, you did."  
  
"I had to let off some steam," Harry said, pulling out his homework.  
  
Silently, Brenna did the same, not looking up at them. Though she read over the assignment, her mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts.  
  
Harry glanced over to her, then back at his homework; "Hermione, what did you put for the description of a half-done transfiguration of a toad into a stool?"  
  
Hermione sighed, and handed him her paper. Harry copied the answer, then handed it back. He sighed, then Ron brought him into a conversation with Dean about Quidditch. Hermione looked at Brenna. Something she had noticed was that when Brenna became anxious, she would chew on her thumbnail, though not biting down on it. She was not reading the paper; in fact her eyes were almost vacant and void.  
  
"Brenna?" Hermione asked; "Brenna!" her hand slapped Brenna's textbook, and the elf-witch snapped out of her daze.  
  
"Wha'? Oh, sorreh, 'Mione, jus' thinkin' about somethin'," she rubbed her eyes, then ran a hand through her hair.  
  
Harry glanced at her, pausing in his conversation. He wanted to apologize and ask what was the matter, but Dean dragged him back in.  
  
Hermione sighed, but before she could comment, McGonagall entered the room.  
  
"Good morning, class," she said, smiling to them all slightly as she reached the front and turned around. It as just her sixth year Griffindors this time, her House that she could be comfortable smiling around; "Today, we will continue transfiguring our toads into stools. Now, if you could pass the assignment forward, we can begin shortly."  
  
As the homework was passed up to McGonagall's desk, Harry looked over at Brenna again. She seemed as if all McGonagall said mattered, after passing her homework up she pulled out her text and began reading the unit again. Harry sighed, facing forward as McGonagall began her lecture. Soon, they all had there frogs, and began transfiguring.  
  
---  
  
An hour and a half later, the class ended. Brenna had managed to finish the transfiguration along with Hermione, while nearly everybody else only came up with green stools that croaked and hopped about. It was an amusing sight, really, but McGonagall quickly regained order and shooed them off to their next class.  
  
Ron and Hermione had felt the tension early on, and quickly went ahead, leaving Brenna and Harry to walk the halls themselves. They made their way to their next class, Divination, which was still being taught by Firenze the centaur. Well, hopefully he was on duty again. The centaur had disappeared during the first week, not getting a chance to teach the first class. Trelawney took over both shifts, to over half of the school's populace's dismay. Firenze's class was always more enjoyable, while Trelawney's was, well...  
  
"Brenna, I'm sorry, whatever I did," Harry said as they took seats on the moss covered floor near the back.  
  
"I know," Brenna said, setting her bag down and lying against it. Harry found himself envying that bag.  
  
Brenna looked up at him; "Tha's not wha's bothahrin' meh," she looked away as she sat up and sighed, running her hands through her hair.  
  
"What's the matter?" Harry asked quietly, edging closer so that their conversation wouldn't be heard.  
  
Brenna sighed; "Somethin's comin'," she said quietly, looking around; "I kin feel et..." she looked at him; "An' et ain't a centaur..."  
  
The door suddenly opened, and before Harry knew it Brenna was scooting up against him, her body rigid in fear and anxiety. He wrapped and arm around her when he saw Snape come gliding in, a look of pure disdain on his face. His onyx eyes scanned the group of Griffindors, and at that point Firenze entered.  
  
"Severus, what are you doing here, when you're classroom resides in the lower parts of the castle?" The centaur asked, eyeing the potions master with a look of uneasiness. It was rare the centaur asked questions at all, and this took quite a few in the class aback.  
  
Snape turned to Firenze and looked him up and down curtly; "Headmaster sent for me to collect a student, _Miss McBennitae_..."  
  
Firenze's eyes darted over to Brenna, and after a moment of staring and sizing her up, he gave her a slight, warm smile. The centaur then turned to face Snape, face void of any enthusiastic emotion; "It appears she is suspicious of you," he commented quietly, so only the two heard it; "Perhaps you have committed something to harm her psyche..."  
  
"_She is just a sensitive girl like every other female in this room_," Snape regarded in a cold whisper.  
  
Firenze eyed him; "It is written law that I cannot let harm come to her."  
  
"And since when do _centaurs_ follow _human _laws? I have never heard of this _'law'_, anyway..."  
  
"That is because Brenna is not human, as_ you_ are. And this law is an agreement between the dark and light creatures of yester era. If she does not want to go with you, I cannot allow you to force her to accompany you."  
  
"You're talking sensibly today, Firenze..."  
  
"Confusion is not an option, my human associate," Firenze stated; "I cannot allow her harm. That is it written, and I must follow it."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes, and turned to look at Brenna and Harry. Both were staring at him, though unlike Brenna's numbed fear, Harry's gaze seemed to scream "just leave".  
  
"_Miss McBennitae, if you could_," Snape said sullenly, walking back over to the door.  
  
Brenna slowly rose, taking her bag. Harry looked at her worriedly, but she only walked to the door, stopping beside Firenze. They held a whispered conversation, to which annoyed Snape further, then as the Potions Master left, Brenna followed, thought giving him an easy twenty feet's distance.  
  
Harry sighed wearily, shaking his head when Firenze looked at him. This wouldn't end well; one of them would do something that would seriously anger the other, or one would get hurt.  
  
---  
  
Snape could hear Brenna behind him; the awful girl was shuffling her feet as she walked, shoes barely leaving the floor as she trudged now at least thirty feet behind him. Though he was a Death Eater, and had committed several vulgar deeds, he had not harmed a single person of elfin decent. He knew the Council's power, what little had been left, far exceeded his and every other Death Eater's. He knew Malfoy and Karkaroff had massacred her line, and knew he was to blame for giving off information. But his information given hadn't resulted in any deaths, thankfully, but it still left him marred and, in Brenna's book, a foul, merciless Death Eater.  
  
Snape sighed, and stopped at the stairs. He heard Brenna stop behind almost when he did. Snape turned and looked at her. Brenna was gripping the shoulder strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles were white, and she seemed paler. Her eyes were directly at Snape.  
  
"I won't hurt you, you know," Snape said, "Albus would kill me if I did, and besides, those days are gone for me..."  
  
"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater," Brenna stated quietly, her gaze not shifting.  
  
"Perhaps;" Snape said, almost sneering; "But this man is not on _their_ side."  
  
"But ya're stell wha' tha' Mark says ya're," Brenna said, walking over. She walked around Snape, giving him a wide arch of space, and continued up the steps.  
  
"As you're _Professor_, I will not be talked to in such a manner," Snape said, walking behind her.  
  
Brenna turned and stopped; "I don' go ta ya classes," she said; "I git a tutor, but I can' even go near those dungeons because o' ya lot o' snakes. Do ye know how many seventh years ah down there wit _the Mark_ on thehh arm?" she shuddered before continuing; "Ta meh, ya're just somebody I gotta see every now an' then," she paused; "Where am I goin', anyway?"  
  
"Headmaster's office," Snape said; "I'm sure a girl as..._ intelligent_ as you can figure out a way there," he sneered curtly; "The password is Ice Mice. _Good day_," he forced the departing line, turning to head elsewhere.  
  
Brenna glared at his back, relieved that the feeling of the Mark was drifting away and her body was returning to normal. She turned and went up the stairs quickly and soon made it to Dumbledore's office. She gave the password, and soon opened the door after knocking.  
  
Dumbledore looked up, a grave look to his face. He folded up a parchment, saying; "Brenna, please sit down."  
  
Brenna looked at Dumbledore, suddenly gaining a massive feeling of foreboding as she walked over and sat down slowly; "Ya wanted ta speak wit' meh?" she asked quietly, gazing at Dumbledore's tired and weary expression.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, setting the parchment aside. He folded his hands together over the desk, and looked up at Brenna; "As much as your grandfather stands against this;" he began, "But, you must be told certain events, beginning with your sibling..."  
  
Brenna's hands gripped the armrests of the chair as she stiffened at the mentioning of her half-brother; "Nah," she said, shaking her head slowly; "'E...'e can' beh..."  
  
Dumbledore nodded gravely; "I'm afraid that, yes, he has escaped," he said; "And..." and then, after explaining McNay's apparent situation, Dumbledore told Brenna of her inheritance from her great-great-great-great-grandsire, Anestrothea.  
  
---  
  
A/N: Hullo, sorry this was so late again! Listen, I want reviews or I'm not continuing this thing! I'm upset that this isn't getting many, it's depressing to write now. Please, you silent people out there, I don't care who you are, but don't be lazy, rude, and mean. **REVIEW**! Iaccept any constructive criticism, ya know! I like opinions! Okay, well, now you know I will not continue until I get close to 35 reviews (counting the 26 I already have). Thank you — thunder rhapsody 


	15. Coming to Terms Unwillingly

**A/N:** I'm sorry this is so late. You know, i have other stories and the reviews are poor for this one. my other story; 'Fate, Destiny, and FAtigue", recieved 5 reviews in under 3 hours. SO, I'm working on it because I'm MODIVATED.  
  
Disclaimer: Do you own anything? Would you mind sharing? Be nice, we want some cake too. Oh, bloody hypocrites, be that way. I'll just sit here with my fan fiction and twiddle my thumbs.  
  
**-----CHAPTER FIFTEEN -----**  
  
As soon as Lunch came around, Harry made a mad dash for the Tower, and he literally ran straight through the Fat Lady as she swung open for his rushed password. Harry stumbled and slipped on the carpet, caught himself on a table, and rushed up the steps. He stopped, gasping for breath, outside Brenna's door. He paused, and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear crying, supposed shouts of anger, and crashes. He heard Squawk, the poor raven probably dodging flying objects. Harry heard the raven plaque on the door sigh.  
  
"Do ye wish entrance, Master Potter?" it asked, gazing down at him. The gem eyes were glittering with artificial uncertainty; it was obviously a warning to any passerby.  
  
"Of course I do!" Harry said, backing away from the door.  
  
And with that, the plaque sighed, and with a click, the door opened slightly.  
  
Harry peered in, before opening it and slipping through. When he entered, the door closed behind him. The sitting area was covered in books, most tossed over from the upper loft, where the little nook library and Brenna's bed was. He heard her sobbing, and shouting. Harry let out a shout as a large tomb came flying from the loft, dropping down below. He barely avoided it, and it nearly broke the arm to the couch. Harry looked up, uncovering his head.  
  
"Brenna?" he asked worriedly.  
  
The sobbing stopped, and Brenna looked over the rail, a book in one hand; "Nothin's makin' since nah more, Harry!" she exclaimed, shouting with frustrated sadness as she turned and was lost to view.  
  
Harry went to the staircase, avoiding yet another book, and quickly went up to the loft. Brenna was leafing through another text, having dropped to her knees and the tears continuing to pour down her rosy cheeks from her angered eyes. She slammed the book shut, threw it across the loft, let out a hitched sob, and covered her face in her hands as she shuddered with a sigh. Harry went over, and dropped down at her side.  
  
"Brenna," he began, but when he reached out to comfort her, she scooted away, getting up. Harry sat there kneeling and stared up at her. Brenna never rejected comfort from him.  
  
Brenna looked at him when her hands came from her face, glaring at him. This glare was not forced, it was real; "Ya knew," she said through her tears, suppressing another sob; "Ya knew, an' ya didn' tell meh!" she shrieked, hands clenching into fists as she went over to the bed and collapsed on it. She cried into the maroon comforter, fingernails digging into the gold emblem of her bloodline's crest.  
  
Harry stared at it, three rings entwined with ivy. The rings themselves seemed to be chain-linked, or overlapping. He remembered Brenna saying that the three rings stood for the three main clans, and that together, they symbolized Trust, Unity, and Compassion. The ivy was a symbol of Peace and the Heritage of an elf, since they gathered magic from the forest and earth. The three rings were the core concepts of a relationship, Harry realized. And now, two of the three threatened to be broken...  
  
"Brenna, I couldn't," Harry managed to say finally, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, and to his relief she didn't shrug it away, more she almost leaned into it. But something caught her and she sat up slowly, tucking her legs beneath her as she gazed out the window on the other side of the wall...  
  
(A/N: I should go into description of her room. Ok: Brenn's bed is up against the wall, window there she's lookin' through — there's a railing about twelve feet away overlooking the sitting area, a hole for where the stairs are, and the walls are lined with bookshelves and regular shelves for things. Okay, hope there's no more confusion).  
  
"They told me that... you might get hurt," Harry said, "I suppose they were afraid you might... get angry and blow something up, or something like that..." he paused; "Don't blame Anestrothea and Dumbledore, or anyone else. It's not there fault, it's just things have happened a lot because the truth wasn't hidden. It's paranoia, I know, but that's how Dumbledore is sometimes. He had your best interests at heart. You know, Anestrothea didn't want to tell you, Dumbledore didn't have to tell you," he knew he was sounding like a brownnoser, just like Percy Weasley was when it had come to Barty Crouch.  
  
Brenna looked at him; "I didn' wan' ta know, Harry, I didn' need ta know," she said sadly, looking away. She gazed longingly out the window; "Mah mind's in ovvadrive..."  
  
Harry took his now heavy and annoying robe off, and set it on the railing. He picked up the book Brenna had been reading, and wasn't surprised that it was a history book on wars. Harry sighed and set it back on a shelf, then turned to look at Brenna. She had broken down, her spirit was shattered, in a sense. This newfound knowledge didn't bode well with her mind; it wasn't healthy for her to be like this.  
  
"Brenna," Harry said; "I won't let you're brother harm you, or Voldermort," he went over, and sat back down on the bed beside her; "You must believe me, if that's why you're worried—"  
  
"Ya think tha's why I'm upset?" Brenna asked, looking at him; "Nah, Harry, I'm nah afraid o' dyin', sometimes I can' wait. Et's all thess... all these secrets... I don' know how ya handle et sometimes," she sighed shakily, and Harry wrapped his arms around her as she lay against him; "I feel so cold now," she whispered, shivering.  
  
Harry kissed the top of her forehead, but it didn't help; "I'm nah ready fah thess," she whispered, closing her eyes; "Ever'thin's comin' full circle, I guess..."  
  
She snuggled into Harry, and he tightened his hold on her, as if afraid he would lose her, should he let Brenna go. He didn't bother wondering what Brenna meant; he'd become accustomed to her speaking in riddles, and only held her.  
  
---  
  
Ron and Hermione burst threw the portrait hole after looking for Harry and Brenna. "There's only one other place they could be, you know," Ron said as they crossed the Common Room to the stairs.  
  
"I know, Ron," Hermione said, rubbing his eyes. But when she looked, she saw her cat, Crookshanks, pawing at Brenna's door. The plaque was in hysterics.  
  
"No, ye cannot come in!" it squawked loudly; "Come later, Mater Harry and Lady Brenna be conversing dire matters! BE GONE!" It shrieked, but Crookshanks only hissed and clawed on the door, making the plaque howl in pain of being tarnished; "Ach, you filthy son of Seresta!" the plaque shouted, cawing madly.  
  
"Crookshanks!" Hermione said finally, having heard enough of the squabble and running over to scoop her cat up. Ron stifled his laughter, and walked over. Hermione had Crookshanks cradled in her arms, and the cat purred, though still glaring at the plaque. The plaque glared back, clicking its wooden beak loudly before facing Ron.  
  
"And I suppose ye two as well request entry?" the plaque asked.  
  
"Ah, yeah, but a question," Ron said, crossing his arms; "How in the hell can you act so real, when you're only charmed?"  
  
The plaque snorted; "Essence of souls, Master Weasley," it replied curtly and with a hint of pride; "I am partly real. Now, ye may enter, if and when the Lady Brenna and Lord—"  
  
"What?" Hermione asked; "Lady and Lord? Brenna I could understand, but why refer Harry to 'Lord'?"  
  
The plaque looked at her; "Master Potter is given respect now," he said; "For he is bound to Lady Brenna," he glared at Crookshanks as the cat hissed; "Get over it," the plaque muttered; "Ye shall not enter."  
  
Crookshanks hissed again, and Hermione stoked his head as she whispered soothing nonsense. Crookshanks purred, nuzzling into her. But he still looked up at the plaque.  
  
Ron eyed the cat, shook his head, and walked up to the door. He began knocking, calling;"Brenna, Harry? Ya there?"  
  
"Silence is golden, Master Weasley," the plaque said; "They wish for no company now."  
  
"What, are they sha—?" Ron began, but Hermione cut him off by saying; "Ron, perhaps we should just come back again later," without waiting for his reply, Hermione pushed Ron back down to the common room and out of the portrait. Crookshanks hopped from her arms, and walked over to a fluffy chair and curled up in it. His eyes watched the landing outside Brenna's door, the plaque having receded back int othe woodwork to resemble the carving it was made out ot be.  
  
--- to be continued ---  
  
A/N: well, the end! No, kidding, but what's up with Crookshanks? And the plaque? Ooh ooh 'more shocking secrets this way come'... 


	16. Someone's Night

A/N: hello, everybody! Ok, I decided that I'd continue. Chad, baby, this is for you!!!!!  
  
AH!!!! I found the perfect picture of Brenna, even though it's a portrait of Andromeda Black. Oh, the artist, **Doris**, is absolutely astounding in their talent I hope they'll allow me to use this, because this is a direct link and you can't copy, paste, and call it yours!!!  
  
I think Brenna would be about oh... twenty-three in this, and by the way she seems, just after/before battle. Teehee I'm happy!!!  
  
Anyway, the link, yes, as is there!!!!!!  
  
Oh, this chapter is in fist person, can you guess who it is?  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but in my mind....  
  
**---Chapter sixteen---**  
  
Hmm, perhaps I should try the look-out post again. No, there is no need anymore, my friend has gone. Bloody wizards and their trivial wars, how did I ever get involved? Oh yes, my past, of course. That's an entire tome in itself. Hmm, anyway, Potter still has not exited Brenna's chambers. My blood boils in anger and over-protectiveness, but I cannot say much. He loves her, at least, and wouldn't hurt her. Still, I want to know what they were up to...  
  
Oh it is a tad boring here, with no one around. Well, at least the people I prefer company with are not present, so I shall make due.  
  
I left my seat, a cozy, soft chair by the crackling fire, and strode across the Common Room. The portrait of the large woman opened for me. I don't know why they refer to her as "the Fat Lady". She is merely festively plump. Ah well, no matter. I continued my way down the dimly lit corridor, it is quite late you know. At least I won't be bothered by that tabby, Mrs. Norris. She is not such a bad animal as the students depict her, merely reacting to years of torment.  
  
Stupid wizards, glad I never was one.  
  
It does me good to wander at night alone. I enjoy watching the portraits, they always have fascinated me. And of course I've managed to find, get caught in, get lost in, and destroy a few secret passages. Ha-ha, of course I was not put at fault. I'm an Innocent; no one would suspect me of anything other than the occasionally stolen pastry or transfiguration animals; preferably, the rodents or small creatures.  
  
Ah, my favorite portrait in the entire school, the one to the kitchens. Oh, which fruit was it again? I'm constantly forgetting. I did remember one of the redhead Weasleys coming down, but damn, what fruit was it?  
  
Ah yes, the pear! That was the one. Hmm, I don't much like pears... but, no matter.  
  
I jumped, and quickly tickled the pear. It let out a giggle, and the portrait swung open, allowing me entrance. I went in, automatically surrounded by the female house elves of the staff. They cooed and smothered me with kind-hearted affection, and I was seated on a stool where they brought me my favorite sweet, almond butter pastries.  
  
I ate the first with vigor, but took my time with the second. I looked around, silent and as still as a statue, watching the elves bustle around. But ah, my large amber eyes spotted the oddball, the black sheep, you could say, out of the lot of them, the one they called "Dobby". Dobby was trying to get another elf, a female, to eat, but I knew that that one was Winky and she was still distraught, for some reason. For once, I hadn't been around for that incident, but each time I came down for a snack, Dobby would be ushering the female away, out of the kitchen with the other elves looking at them with glares of disgust and embarrassment.  
  
I shook my head, and after thanking the elves, I got down from the stool and exited the kitchen, and began my way back up. Normally, I would take the route to the library to enjoy a good evening read, but tonight, I had a feeling. No, not intuition, that's trivial. No, this was instinct. I wished to be up with Brenna, to protect her... from something.  
  
As I crossed the main foyer, I stopped amidst a pool of purple light, courtesy from the large stain-glass fixture above the doors. I could hear footsteps; they were coming from the left hallway. I quickly rushed and hid behind a large statue, and peered around to see Dumbledore and... ooh, Mister Shacklebolt. He's been coming around a lot lately.  
  
Yet both looked worried, and I automatically felt the presence of foreboding.  
  
"Albus, why,_ in the hell_ did you tell her?!" Kingsley shouted, angrier than hellfire, I could safely say.  
  
Dumbledore was his calm self as always, the one quality that unnerved me. But surprisingly, his eyes were void of that annoying youthful twinkle. He looked old for once, like the old man he truly was and rarely let on to feel like.  
  
"I told her the truth, Kingsley," Dumbledore replied calmly, hands folded in the wide sleeves of his robes; "No one disserves to be withheld from their basic right to knowledge, especially when it is about themselves."  
  
"Do you know much about Elves, Albus?" Kingsley asked, obviously fuming. (I swear I saw steam escape his ears); "McNay will know by the end of the semester where Brenna is. And by then, only god knows _what might happen_!"  
  
"Kingsley, I share my own knowledge on elves, I know what I have done!" Dumbledore had raised his voice only once, and that was against that damn Minister of Magic fool; "Do not badger me when you yourself have past transgressions!"  
  
Kingsley was silent, and I slowly walked out from my hiding place. I slunk over to the stairs, not wishing to hear the rest of the argument. But I caught bits and pieces on my quick ascent and decided that I had best forget it. I eventually reached the portrait, which swung open for me when I tapped at the lower right corner. I entered the warm common room, and began to feel drowsy for the coziness. But I had to make sure everyone was alright.  
  
I was nearing the stairs when I heard a snuffling, muffled crying even. I turned and looked over to the couch by the fireplace, and there was Hermione and Ron. The Weasley I did not tolerate, but out of respect of the girl I had lessened my enjoyable ritual of annoying him. But Hermione was crying, and Ron was comforting her.  
  
I padded over to them, staying beneath a side table, out of sight.  
  
"I just don't understand it, Ron," Hermione was saying, looking up from her hands at the redhead.  
  
Ron sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around; "I don't either, Hermione," he said, resting his chin on the top of her head as she rested against his chest.  
  
Hermione sniffed; "Why won't they tell us anything?" she asked quietly, staring at the fire as the flames danced in her watery eyes; "Harry's our _best friend_, so what's stopping him?"  
  
Ron sighed and shook his head. I knew the redhead was not one for these types of conversations ,but it was amusing watching him so I stayed where I was.  
  
"Maybe we can't comprehend it," Ron said quietly; "I mean, We know they're not... doing anything, and Harry's not in his bed. Maybe they're just... talking about things..."  
  
"But, everyone's noticing;" Hermione said; "Even during DA meetings, Brenna's faltering. Have you noticed that whenever she doesn't cast a spell correctly, Harry sometimes misses it as well?"  
  
"So?" Ron asked; "They could be bonded like mum and dad. That plaque could be right..." he glanced at the stairs for a moment.

I hate that smarty plaque.  
  
Hermione looked up at him briefly; "I feel like we're being left in the cold, Ron," she said, "And you know I hate that feeling."  
  
Ron smiled slightly, playing with her hair as he leaned back; "Yeah, I know," he said; "Come on, we need to get to bed."  
  
I watched in silence as the two rose, and hand in hand went to the stairs. After a quick kiss, both went their separate ways. I held back a grimace as I trotted after them, but I took to the stairs leading to Brenna's room. I came to the landing, and the plaque came to life. Damn how I hated that dreadful thing, I wanted to rip it off the door and set it on fire.  
  
"What do you want?" it asked lowly, glaring at me.  
  
I calmly sat down, watching it; "_La faen glaston_;" I said, the words foreign to my mouth for not speaking in so long.  
  
"Ha, speak English, fool!" the raven crowed, laughing.  
  
I glared, searching for the words. Ah, thankfully I remembered my fluid second-tongue; "I wish entrance," I said calmly, but with a hint of malice to get my point across.  
  
The plaque smirked; "How are you in your position, eh?" it asked, enjoying mocking me.  
  
"You've had your fun," I said curtly; "I want to go inside."  
  
"I can't let you," the raven said, turning its head and watching me; "Not without your _credo_."  
  
_Credo_, my tongue for creed. I stared at the door, the insignia of the Bloodlines. I stared at the middle ring, my line's.  
  
"_Gunglamorea nos treh kohl delason_," I replied finally (For Death I mourn, for Love I breathe my last).  
  
The raven looked shocked and outraged, and I managed a smirk. With a huff, the raven clicked its beak. The door slowly swung open, and I slipped inside.  
  
The sitting area was lit with a few wall candles, the fire all but gone. The ambers still glowed though, enough to show off the shadows of the room. I went to the staircase, and quickly covered the stairs. Poking my head out of the opening, I came to the loft. Making my way over to the bed, I clawed my way on to it.  
  
Brenna was asleep, under the covers, still clothed. And Harry was right beside her, sitting up, leaning against the headboard, and staring out the window. His emerald eyes were stormy with troubles. I had a brief fear for my well-being, but dismissed it as I went over to them.  
  
Harry turned to me and smiled, welcoming me over to his side. He reached to pet me, and I let him stroke my head. You have to keep up appearances, and playing a cat was one of them.  
  
"Hello, Crookshanks," he said quietly, and I purred.  
  
**A/N**: well, ha-ha so maybe I've done it again. There ya go. Okay, did you think it was Crookshanks? Or maybe a person? Review!!!!! TBC-maybe


	17. PART THREE: Secrets, Secrets

A/N: hello, everybody! Ok, I decided that I'd continue. Chad, baby, this is for you!!!!!  
  
Okay, the link didn't upload last chapter, that makes me upset......  
  
Dear all, I feel that this review should be posted, as a memo/warning to you all, courtesy of a good friend who inspired me to continue...  
  
**Alright you b# If you read this story then F#ing review so Thunder will continue to work on this story. Thunder is obviously a review addict so we need to help her get her fix. i do not like slash so I cant read the other story (I break out into hives if I try to read...Honest...lol) ok maybe not but it is killing us in reviews and I was to se this story finished. Please review.  
  
Btw great story Thunder  
  
Have a nice day  
  
Chad Simmons  
**  
the were # supposed to be stars, but it wouldn't load

Oh, and I'm not a review addict. Well, I might be. But you must understand, when some say you're a good writer, then some say you suck, and others refuse to speak, you get a little discouraged...  
  
Ahem, and Chad, are we a just a tad bit desperate? Don't worry, hun, I'm going to finish this story if it kills me, and it just as well might, but look at my profile!!! I have others!!! And my slash fic is bringing in some good and planned-out reviews! I like getting responses to know what I need to fix or if I should just stop!!! Or in Chad's case if I need to keep going!!!  
  
_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing  
  
Final notes:::::.....  
  
/thoughts/  
  
[author's notes]  
  
**---Chapter seventeen---**  
  
Harry had drifted off to sleep after that, waking up to find the cat gazing out the window. It was still early; the sky was only just lightening up. Crookshanks turned and watched him as Harry rose from the bed, groaning. Sitting against a headboard all night was not a comforting affair.  
  
Harry made eye-contact with the cat, getting the uncanny feeling that there was more to it. Come to think of it, Crookshanks had changed physically; his once flat face now had an elegant, circular 3D shape and his once shaggy ginger fur was glossy and well kept. He looked different, but his eyes were still blazing amber-brown. But something was behind those eyes...  
  
Harry continually told himself that Hermione had charmed him into looking better, though he knew that was a lie. He turned, and put on his sweater that he had taken off earlier, the green one from last Christmas with the large "H" on it from Mrs. Weasley. All this time, the cat watched him.  
  
"What's your problem?" Harry asked exasperatedly, turning to the animal.  
  
Crookshanks glared at him. /Since when do cat's glare like _that_?/ Harry thought. It seemed so human...  
  
"You," the cat replied, voice aristocratic, but at the same time seeming unfamiliar with talking. /well duh.../  
  
Harry just stared. /Okay, now I am crazy/ he thought /Cat's don't talk! Okay, just ignore it. It was just you're imagination/ Harry blinked, and went to put on his shoes.  
  
"You can hear me, it's not your mind," Crookshanks continued.  
  
Harry tried his best to ignore it as he slipped on his tennis shoes. /Nope, not crazy. I am **NOT** crazy/  
  
Crookshanks jumped from the windowsill, and onto the bed. Harry promptly rose, and the cat sat down where he once had been. Harry turned and faced Crookshanks. The cat looked... amused.  
  
"Okay, fine, if you can talk..." Harry said, while his mind screamed /It's all a trick! It's like talking to the portraits! It's not healthy **shut** _up_!!!!/  
  
"What's your name?" Harry continued.  
  
Crookshanks smirked; "Not the one the witch in the shop gave me," the cat replied.  
  
"Answer the question," Harry said, taking his wand from his back pocket; "Or I'll hex you into oblivion..."  
  
"Oh, fine, but like it would have an affect on me," Crookshanks said, rolling his eyes; "_Orion_."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That is my sire-given name... _Orion_."  
  
Harry nodded, sitting on the bed, turning to face Crookshanks; "What's with you being a cat, then?" he asked quietly, glancing at Brenna. She was still asleep, thank God. If she caught Harry, he was sure she would freak. But then again, Brenna was Brenna, she'd probably just join in...  
  
"Oh, well, you know how it is," _Orion_, replied; "Bit of a family squabble, and rather than hide and face persecution, I became what wizards call an Animagus. Shame though, I wanted to be a majestic bird," he mused as he looked at a paw; "But, you get what you're given."  
  
"Well, of course," Harry said; "So then, '_Orion_', why am I your problem?"  
  
"You're close to Brenna, and you're not elfin," Orion replied curtly; "It's bad enough her blood is thin as it is, let alone her falling for _you_."  
  
Harry stared at Orion, realization slamming into him; "You're an _elf_!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, give the booby a prize!" Orion groaned, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Hey!" Harry said indignantly; "Don't make me throw you out the window...!"  
  
"I'd land on my feet, _Brain child_," Orion said snidely; "Honestly, are you _trying_ to infuriate me?"  
  
"Whatever," Harry said, "Anyway, are you a relative of Brenna's?"  
  
Orion was silent; "Yes," he replied finally, turning his head to the side.  
  
"Okay," Harry said slowly; "Uncle? Cousin?"  
  
"Neither..."  
  
"Grandfather? Godparent?"  
  
"Well, not eactly..."  
  
"...Sibling?"  
  
"Yes," Orion said.  
  
"She's got another brother!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up and aiming his wand at the cat; "I swear, if you're in with McNay, I'll—"  
  
"Put you're wand away, boy," Orion said, "I wouldn't help that traitor if my life depended on it."  
  
Harry lowered his wand, but still held it in his hand firmly.  
  
"I'm older than Ammil, and especially Brenna," Orion said, trying to steady his tone as his anger rose at such an accusation; "I was the first born, to my father's first wife. My mother died giving birth to me. I grew up in good times, when things were peaceful. But then, after my father re-married and they had McNay, things changed. My step-mother got the virus, and my father was left to care for us. I was already grown; I was living at peace in London.  
  
"Then I received my Calling from the council, and, while Tom Riddle was trying to persuade that Ministry of yore, I went under assignment. The thing is, they Council was trying to root out all of the black sheep of the race..."  
  
"And you were one of them," Harry said.  
  
Orion nodded; "Not that I minded. After my step-mother died I'll admit I did change. Apparently, not in a good way," he added, picking at a loose thread on the quilt.  
  
"What did you do?" Harry asked.  
  
Orion glanced at him, before staring out into space, in the direction of the rail; "I came back and confronted the Gengedelea... sorry, the Council, and I... said some things... that, well, if I hadn't run, I would have been killed. So would all of my other relatives."  
  
Harry nodded. Something told him not to delve deeper into the subject; "So, can you... _change_ out of this form?" he asked.  
  
The cat shook his head; "Only when I can without the other elves knowing," he replied; "I chose this form because... I could pass by undetected. It took me ages before I could talk in this form, as well. Oh, _that_ was trying," he added dramatically, rolling his eyes as he rose.  
  
Orion padded over to Brenna, sitting beside her before leaning against her back. She mumbled something, reached back, and stroked the cat's back. Orion closed his eyes, nuzzling his head into her form. She mumbled again, but moved no more.  
  
"You love her, don't you?" Orion asked, opening his eyes and staring at Harry.  
  
"Yes," Harry replied apprehensively.  
  
"Oh, _touchy_," Orion sneered, rising and padding over to Harry. He came over, and stood on his back paws while his front paws were on Harry's knee. The amber orbs were locked intently on Harry's forehead.  
  
"Would you kindly not stare?" Harry asked, shoving the cat off of him.  
  
Orion made a familiar cat-spitting noise as he moved to the edge of the bed, looking over at Harry still; "Just checking," he said, before getting off the bed and walking over to the stair well. He sat down by the edge, and like a curious kitten looked over the edge. He let out a snort of distaste.  
  
"How will I get down," he mused, walking around the opening.  
  
"I could _throw_ you over;" Harry suggested nonchalantly, lying back and propping himself up on his elbows as he eyed Orion with one eyebrow pompously raised.  
  
"And here I thought the Golden Boy was kind-hearted;" Orion muttered darkly, eyes narrowing as he glanced at the youth.  
  
"For an elf you sure seem _jolly_," Harry joked placidly.  
  
"Try being stuck in this body and living in a damned pet shop for a decade and a half," Orion muttered, and then he promptly jumped from the left side.  
  
"Oh _Hell_!" Harry gasped, jumping up and running to the stairwell. He dropped to his knees, frowning when he saw Orion had landed on the railing and had slid down it to the floor and wondering why he chose to worry over him in the first place.  
  
Orion briefly shook his fur, and then walked across the sitting area to the door. He sat beside it, dully staring at the little engraving, promptly held up a paw, showed one claw, and raked it down the door panel.  
  
Harry winced as he rose, hearing the mad caw of the plaque. Orion had a mischievous grin on his face, and strutted out as the door swung open.  
  
To bad for him it slammed shut on the tip of his tail, making the elf-animagus howl in pain. Harry broke out laughing, before climbing down to rescue the poor soul.  
  
---  
  
Brenna opened her eyes slowly, groaning and rolling over to avoid the sunlight that poured into her room through the windows. She rubbed her brow, and sat up. She looked around, seeing a parchment in the vacant spot that had once been occupied beside her. Brenna rolled her eyes as she read the scrawled hand-writing. Harry's print was close to resembling literal chicken-scratch...  
  
Brenna,  
  
Hello, love, suppose you're awake now. Anyway, I had to leave for  
classes, and the fact that I had to rescue Crookshanks from the door's  
wrath. Honestly, you should take time to watch him; he's very, very  
odd. Take your time waking up, 'Mione, Ron, and me are covering for  
you. But if you're not up by lunch, I'll send Hermione after you. No,  
I'm not that cruel, but really, try getting out of bed before supper  
at least? I know you like to sleep, but there is a world beyond those  
warm covers.  
Love, Harry   
  
P.S.,

Seriously, check up on Crookshanks. Make sure he isn't snooping  
  
Brenna smiled, laughing quietly at the comment. She rose from the bed, parchment floating over to her small desk as she stretched her hand outward. Brenna quickly went down the steps, and went into the closet. She gathered a change of clothing, and then her bathroom necessities, and opened the door a few seconds later. She poked her head out to check that the staircase and Common Room was empty, and then darted to the girls' restrooms.  
  
Brenna opened the door, and decided to shower over bathe. She set her things down on the bench, closed the curtain, and undressed. Walking into the shower area, she closed that curtain, and turned the water on.  
  
The warm cascading water hit her, and Brenna relished in it. She closed her eyes, and then washed her hair. After washing with her vanilla-cinnamon products, Brenna turned the shower off, and as she reached out for her towel, as Fate allowed, the door opened.  
  
"_Honestly_, Padma, why did we come up _here_ again?"  
  
"Because, _Lavender_, it's our break and no one will hear us gossip."  
  
"_Riiiight_, right. So, where was Harry's significant other, you wonder? Normally they're attached at the hip."  
  
"Dunno, but damn is she lucky, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"Harry _has_ become quite handsomer over the year, and I thought those dreadful Muggle relatives of his treated him badly!"  
  
/those awful girls/ Brenna thought with disgust. She listened intently, though, so she was no better. But it was about Harry, and her, so it was alright, she wagered...  
  
"And how come she gets her _own_ room, anyway? It's not fair, she's not even a seventh year!"  
  
"She's an _'exchange student'_, they get that kind of special treatment. Lucky bitch..."  
  
"Seriously. But, you know what I heard about Brenna..."  
  
"_No_," came a dramatic gasp; "What? Tell me, Padma, _tell me_!"  
  
"Well, word of mouth has it that _she_ is Dumbledore's secret weapon. I myself heard Professor McGonagall and Trelawney talking about how Brenna was one of the more powerful witches, and then Trelawney said 'well, she's certainly _more_ than _just_ a witch'. And then, McGonagall replied, 'well, of course she is, the girl's got quite the family tree'."  
  
"So? What could that mean?"  
  
"Well, either Brenna's as pure as they come, or she isn't human at all."  
  
"Oh please... I'm going with the first. I mean, have you ever heard her surname before? I bet her family's so secretive it's surreal...!"  
  
And so saying, the two girls left the bathroom, gossiping idly over Brenna's suspected genealogy and blood status.  
  
Brenna let out a frustrated sigh, anger bubbling in her. As if finding out her true status wasn't enough, now she knew she was officially on the gossip chain list of the school. Brenna quickly dressed, walked out, magically dried her hair, put it in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, bangs framing her face, and put on the light make-up to cover up the small cross-shaped birthmark on her left temple she had let no one see, not even Harry.  
  
Brenna checked her reflection, and sighed. She wasn't much for preparing herself like she was going to a ball unless the need arose, and since Harry found her beautiful and desirable (information she had gathered from Seamus [cough ahem cough]), she really saw no point in layers of make-up. Hermione had dubbed her blessed with Antique Beauty, not exactly a ten, but around an eight or so. Hermione considered herself a six or even a five, a huge understatement. But she felt the same as Brenna, best perfectly natural and without a mask.  
  
After putting her things in her room, Brenna slung her bag over her shoulder and her robe over her arm, then promptly left the tower. Brenna was heading for the Main staircase when the chime sounded. Classes were over. /Oh, which classes, though/ Brenna thought worriedly as she kept walking, as if unconcerned by the slowly appearing groups of mingling students. Several watched her, finding it peculiar that one of the "Golden Gryffindor Quartet" was walking the halls alone, especially since the risk of attacks hadn't gone from Amber to Red [aheheh, terrorist alert thingy in the US, simply put it didn't go from really really really bad to just kinda really bad]. Even though Zacharias' attack had been almost a month ago, people were still getting jumped and duels had started breaking out.  
  
And when this dawning moment of thought hit her, Brenna became edgy. She went down the fifth floor hallway, towards Charms, but stopped when she remembered that that class had already been through. Brenna inwardly moaned as she looked around. Her memory was shot, she needed help.  
  
And though Fate's a bitch, Luck was its wonderful sister of Remorse. At that moment, Seamus and Dean came around the corner, both looking a little disheveled and flushed. But both saw the very confused looking Brenna in the hallway, stepping out of the way of gossiping groups.  
  
"Oi, Brenna!" Dean shouted, the two fellow Gryffindors rushing to her aid.  
  
"Thank god," Brenna said, smiling as Seamus came up and his arm wrapped around her shoulders.  
  
"So, what's got you wondering around the halls?" Seamus asked as they escorted Brenna to the next class; "Didn't catch you at brekky, or lunch for that matter."  
  
"Were you sick?" Dean inquired worriedly.  
  
He too, had heard rumors about Brenna, and knew that Harry would take a possibly fetal swing at one of them if Brenna was hurt. Secretly, Dean and Seamus were watchers, keeping tabs on the DA, and especially making sure Brenna was never walking around alone. Malfoy was a threat, after all, even if it sounded like Harry was being paranoid. Though, who wouldn't be in his situation...?  
  
"Ah, lunch 's already bin 'round?" Brenna asked; "Oh well, no mattah, I guess. What class 's next?"  
  
"Care of Magical Creatures," Seamus said, sighing forlornly; "Wonder what Hagrid's got up his sleeve today, eh, Dean?"  
  
"Who knows," Dean said, shrugging. Brenna noticed that he was eyeing certain students, particularly Slytherins.  
  
"Dean," she said slowly and cautiously; "What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh er, nothing, Brenna!" he said, giving her a half-hearted grin; "Just, you know, little paranoid today!"  
  
Before a reply could be said, Brenna felt the weight of Seamus' arm leave her shoulders, and she turned to see the Irish young man was ready to draw his wand, looking sternly down at the entrance hall from their spot halfway down the last leg of the stairs. Dean had paused to, gazing ahead intently as well. Slowly, Brenna looked as well, dreading what she would see.  
  
It was Blaise Zambini, and another Slytherin she knew only as Bletchley. The two wore apathetic masks as they confronted the entourage, Dean taking a warning step in front of Brenna while Seamus drew his wand.  
  
"Guys, 'onestly," Brenna said through gritted teeth, her eyes locked in a stare match with Blaise's.  
  
"Brenna," Blaise said in a business-like fashion; "Draco wants to speak with you."  
  
"An' I care because?" Brenna asked slowly, eyeing the Slytherin warily.  
  
"Well, it's regarding your lineage, or so Draco says," Blaise replied, aparently not wanting to be in the situation.  
  
"Yeah, tell the _Ice Prince of Prats_ this," Seamus said; "Tell him to go bloody sod off. Come on, we're going to be late for class..."  
  
He took a step before Blaise held a hand up, eyeing him; "Finnegan, maybe you heard me wrong," he said, tone bordering a growl; "But Draco wishes to speak to Brenna. So I expect a reply from the person in question—"  
  
"'Onestly," Brenna said, forth-right in her tone; "If I 'ad a problem with et, Blaise, I 'da said somethin'. Now, if Draco wants ta talk to meh, he can come to meh himself. Dean, Seamus;" she said calmly, pushing between Blaise and Bletchley.  
  
Dean and Seamus followed, elbowing and shoving past the Slytherins cruelly. The caught up with Brenna, feeling the heated glares being cast in their direction.  
  
"What did Zambini mean by_ that_, anyway?" Seamus asked blatantly once they were outside.  
  
Brenna didn't reply, and Dean only shrugged; "Let's just get going," Dean said.  
  
The three reached Hagrid's hut in silence, and were at once confronted by the trio, Harry in the lead.  
  
"Thank Merlin, Brenna," he started excitedly, but seeing the look Brenna was giving him, when he spoke her name it was calm, almost plainly said; "What's the matter?"  
  
"Kin I talk to ya, Harry?" Brenna asked, but without waiting for his reply, she took him by the arm and dragged him off to the side.  
  
Ron, Hermione, Seamus and Dean all exchanged looks that simply sent out messages of confusion and exasperation.  
  
"What's gotten inta ya lately?" Brenna asked in a hushed whisper; "I know I've been skivin' DA meetin's, but makin' Shay and Dean my guards? Harry, _I'm a big g_irl!"  
  
"Brenna, I know!" Harry said, but when she seemed unconvinced, he took her hands; "Honestly, it's just that duels are becoming more frequent, and the Slytherins are sending random Howlers. There were ten this morning, you were lucky you missed it all. And Malfoy's been trying to contact you for some reason, and it's making me paranoid as hell!" he took a breath of air; "Brenna, I'm only thinking about your safety, I know Malfoy, and—"  
  
"I know 'im too, Harry, "Brenna said; "I know he just wants ta talk! Harry, you only know him through school, I've seen his family life;" she paused; "It's a mask Harry, a Lucius mask. Draco's not like that, I've seen him smile."  
  
"What, are falling for him like the rest of them?" Harry asked, letting her hands go.  
  
"Of course not!" Brenna said, shocked at the accusation; "All I'm saying 's tha' if you two weren' always a' each othas throats, maybe you could notice that he's slowly changing for the worse!"  
  
Harry stared at her; "What?" he asked quietly, eyes darting over to make sure they weren't being heard.  
  
"Yes!" Brenna said; "Afta Halloween, Harry, think! Draco's been withdrawn, weary... and he's _constantly rubbing his right arm_," she added.  
  
Harry was silent in numbed shock. These were things he had completely bypassed, choosing to ignore him over school, the DA, and his friends. Malfoy was the least of his concern, but Brenna, with her weird senses, couldn't ignore it easily. So he saw it from her perspective. Malfoy had been a little withdrawn, prone to just get straight to the point of dueling. He hadn't really been showing his best effort in Quidditch, either.  
  
Harry nodded; "Then that means," he mused; "That his father got the better of him...?"  
  
Brenna nodded; "he's also been feeding information to Dumbledore. Harry, he's a _spy_ for us."  
  
"So, why are we discussing this?" Harry asked.  
  
Brenna sighed, shook her head wearily, and then hit Harry on the side of the head; "How dense are ya?" she shouted.  
  
"Ouch!" Harry said, rubbing the side of his head. Her ring had caught in his hair, and it had hurt; "What was that for?" he asked.  
  
Brenna groaned; "Look, don' jus' think tha' Draco's a brown-nosah, 'cause he's not. He's a Death Eater not by choice, buh by forced obligation."  
  
Harry nodded, but before he could continue, Hagrid was calling them over for class.  
  
A/N: well, there you have it!!!!!!!


	18. Symptoms One

A/N: well, questions are good I guess. Chad, hun, I'm continuing for you. Now, I'm going to get to it, be patient. I could stop completely, you know. Listen, I'm gonna get into it NOW. So just sit tight, okay?  
  
Disclaimer: well, I think we know by now whether or not if I own anything.  
  
**---CHAPTER EIGHTEEN---**  
  
As soon as the class ended, Harry and Brenna used their free hour before dinner to go to the library. Ron and Hermione asked questions, but when Harry and Brenna both gave weary looks, Hermione understood, and promptly dragged Ron off, the redhead still complaining about leaving the two alone.  
  
Brenna and Harry went to the third floors, and quickly found a vacant balcony, overlooking the courtyard and part of the lake. Harry closed the doors, and then turned to Brenna. She was leaning against the rock wall, eyes distantly glazed as she watched the sparkling waters, the sun casting reds, purples, and pinks on the waters and in her eyes. Her ebony hair fell from the ponytail, framing her flushed face. Was she angry? No, she was just frustrated. Harry wanted to embrace her, comfort her, but there was too much that hadn't been said.  
  
"Okay," he said finally, walking over and leaning against the rock railing. He too, gazed at the lake, and said; "What's the deal between you and Malfoy? Why are you always defending him, then wanting to kill him the next turn around?"  
  
"It makes meh frustrated," Brenna responded wistfully; "He took the mark, when he didn't want ta. I'm confused by it all..."  
  
Her voice was almost as clear as Harry's; she was either anxious as hell or so frustrated she was completely sober in thought. This worried Harry, but he willed — no, forced it down.  
  
"How?" he asked calmly.  
  
Brenna sighed; "He's... a mystery. Kingsley was telling me how evil and vile his father was, how his mother was too scared to do anything, how Draco just... wanted love..."  
  
/Oh hell, we're too deep/ Harry's inner voice screamed, but he ignored it and only waited for her to continue.  
  
"I remember first meeting him. He was a prat, but... I saw through it. He was just another scared, emotionally damaged kid, like a lot of us... he was a shadow, of his father... he only wanted Lucius to be... proud of him..."  
  
"You saw all this, in his eyes?" Harry asked, now turning to look at her skeptically.  
  
Brenna nodded, eyes never leaving the lake; "Don't doubt me, Harry," she said, "I can't stand that..."  
  
"I wasn't doubting you!" Harry said.  
  
Brenna looked at him, briefly, then turned to the waters yet again. There was a lengthy silence, then; "_We think we can conquer anything_," she said suddenly; "_Yet our minds are clouded by our own desires, least without intentions. We hid behind masks, build up walls, set up barricades to any entrance to ourselves, and become lost to the outer-life, forgetting to regard our inner souls. Our flames, they flicker and die, blown away from the gust we've created around our islands of secrecy_..."  
  
Harry just stared. He wasn't at all confused, for once Brenna's ramblings made perfectly clear sense; "Brenna..." he said, at a loss for words.  
  
"_And then, some become imprisoned by their lies_," Brenna continued, her voice so distant it was almost haunting; "_They find no solace in truth and compassion, redeeming their souls for a moment of command and an inch of freedom... they run from righteousness, hide and cower from the light... fight for misguided untruths and betrayed hearts_..."  
  
Harry saw her eyes glaze over, and Brenna began to slide down the wall to slump against it on the ground. Harry caught her midway, gently easing her slide.  
  
"Brenna?!" he asked, waving his hand in front of her face. Brenna's eyes were an almost clear-blue, and the pupils were barely there, as if the light caused them to disappear. Harry began to get anxious; "Brenna!!!" he said loudly.  
  
Just then, the door opened. Harry looked up, only to see the orange blur come through. In a flash, Crookshanks, or Orion, was at Brenna's side.  
  
"And I thought it was just a tale!" he exclaimed; "Quick, Harry, is she speaking Ancientriss yet?"  
  
"No, just some complex rambling!" Harry said, gently shaking Brenna's shoulder.  
  
"_Don't touch her_!" Orion hissed, jumping into his lap and shoving him back.  
  
"Get off me!" Harry roared, throwing the cat back.  
  
"_You don't understand_!" Orion shouted, landing on his side and scrambling back over. Eh jumped into Harry's lap again, claws fixed firmly into his sweater to prevent further removal; "_This is part of her destiny_!" the cat said, watching Brenna.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, "Explain, Orion, I'm no elf!"  
  
"Part of being _the Soul Beacon_, Harry!" Orion said, letting go of Harry and jumping down; "We have to wait it out," he walked over and sat beside Brenna, turning her right hand over to where the palm was facing up.  
  
"What are you doing?" Harry asked.  
  
"There's a mark that's supposed to come to her palm," Orion replied, delicately tracing one of the lines of Brenna's palm; "But it's not here. Check her hand..."  
  
Harry reached over to take Brenna's hand, but could feel some sort of warmth, even fro ma few inches away. He held his head there, staring at her flesh, when Orion said; "Hello, _check her hand, wizard_!"  
  
"I have a name," Harry muttered, coming from his thoughts and taking Brenna's hand and turning it over.  
  
No mark.  
  
"Her skin's so warm," Harry mumbled, letting go; "Is she sick?" he asked worriedly.  
  
"No," Orion said; "I remember my father and grandfather discussing it, a while before he died. Brenna managed to blow up a bookshelf that day, and both were concerned about it all. To make a long story short, they went into a big discussion about the Torch, and what the symptoms were. We must have missed the first, there isn't an odd mark... wait," he said suddenly, crawling onto Brenna's lap.  
  
He climbed over her chest and onto her shoulder and arm, staring at her temple; "Didn't you have a birthmark?" he mused quietly, pawing at Brenna's hair; "Ack, she's wearing that wretched covering!"  
  
"It's makeup," Harry mumbled, moving over to Brenna's other side. Taking his the end of his shirt sleeve, he gently rubbed against her temple, removing the cover-up. His work revealed a dark tan, cross shaped mark, starting at her hair line, and ending above her cheekbone. The horizontal line went from her hairline near her ear, almost to her eyebrow.  
  
"Hmm, so lightening bolts aren't the _only_ interesting marks;" Orion mused, "But why her temple?"  
  
"A tap?" Harry suddenly blurted out.  
  
"A _what_?" Orion asked, staring at the youth worriedly.  
  
"A tap, you know, a mental one," Harry said, "Voldermort can was once able to get into my mind through my scar, it was like a bond. Maybe, Brenna's mark is _genetic_. It could be because of what she is..."  
  
"Very clever," Orion said; "I doubt Hermione could have thought that," he smirked, but it faded when he looked at Brenna; "We need to get her away from here, Potter..." he whispered; "Now is not the time for her to be found by anyone..."  
  
"We can't get through the library without being seen;" Harry said; "And I'm not up for a seventy-foot drop."  
  
Orion gnawed on his lower lip in thought, then jumped from Brenna. He quickly slipped through the door, and a few moments later, returned, dragging a cloak with him by his teeth. Harry recognized it immediately as his Invisibility Cloak.  
  
"Where in hades did you get that from?" he asked incredulously as Orion spat it out by Harry's side.  
  
"Well, the librarian won't let animals in here, so of course I thought of this handy cloth," Orion said casually, lifting the cloak up with a paw and looking it over thoughtfully before setting it down; "I remember you using it during last year. Now, can you carry Brenna, or should I alert the redheaded oaf?"  
  
"I can carry her," Harry said, "Quidditch has been good to me."  
  
"Bloody sport, I'm amazed you all haven't lost your heads completely," Orion mused darkly as Harry put the cloak on. He watched as Harry gently lifted Brenna into his arms, and concealed them both.  
  
"She's mumbling," Harry whispered worriedly, brushing Brenna's hair from her face; "Where should I go?"  
  
"That room of yore, the one of Requirement," Orion said, "Everything will be there waiting for you."  
  
"What about you?" Harry asked.  
  
Orion sighed; "I think that Hermione needs to know that her pet isn't who she thinks. I've been meaning to for a while now, but I told you first so my plans have changed."  
  
"Plans?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes," Orion said, thinking himself crazy for speaking to thin air. He was relying on his senses now, not knowing where Harry was standing; "You _are_ still there, right?"  
  
"By the _door_," Harry said, chuckling.  
  
Orion growled as he turned around, and glared at the vacant doorway. "_Very funny_," he growled.  
  
Harry smiled, "I'm going," he said quietly, then he was gone, and within minutes, out of the library.  
  
Orion then sat, contemplating on how he could pass the librarian and her awful temper.  
  
A/N: I know, short, but I had to get it out. So there. 


	19. Discoveries in Waiting

A/N: MyStOrIeS, you read my mind. I know, there will be a little clash over the whole "OMG Crookshanks isn't a cat and he's a guy and he was in the girls dorms'" thing. Tee hee!!!!  
  
Oh, the Hades bit. Yeah sorry, that's when my mom came in and everything so... ya know, no cussing when parents are around! But, it i  
  
Disclaimer: well, I think we know by now whether or not if I own anything.  
  
**---CHAPTER NINETEEN---**  
  
Harry found it hard to carry Brenna after reaching the second floor. She was now unconscious, and he was having a fitful time trying to keep her in his arms and her head to his chest. Harry stopped and leaned against the wall, but his breathing caught as he heard people coming down the hall. He froze, and waited as a small group of third years past. When they reached the stairs, Harry let out a sigh, then continued on to the Room of Requirement. He reached the appropriate floor, and found it, the big door a welcoming sight.  
  
Harry pushed it open, and gasped. The room looked like a small library and study, but there was a large psychiatrist-office-style sofa {a/n: wazzit called?}. There were seemingly mountains of books, and a plethora of different sizes of cushions around a blazing fire in its place. There was also a small cabinet.  
  
Harry wasted no time in setting Brenna on the sofa, and took the cloak off, slinging it over the back. He watched her worriedly for a moment, and then turned to a pile of books he saw. Taking the one on the top, he saw that the title was actually a question, one that startled him...  
  
'_The Soul Beacon is_...'  
  
What shocked him further was that there was no author.  
  
Harry went over, and picked up a big, over-stuffed cushion. He set it by the couch, sat down upon it, and put the book on his lap. He stared at the gold lettering on the crimson cover. Finally, he gathered the assurance to open it, glancing up at Brenna. Sighing, Harry opened it, and began to read...  
  
'_Soul Beacon: the one light which is able to create and distribute enough power to vanquish great evil. The first Soul Beacon was an elf by the name of Anglithae. It was created from the combined powers of the Four Winds, the Six Stars, and the Nine Wise_...'  
  
Harry's head jerked up as he heard a mad raking sound on the other side of the door, coupled with a loud yowling. Harry jumped up, dropped the book, and rushed over. He opened the door, and an orange blue shot in. Harry followed it, but his head snapped painfully back when he heard "I'm gonna _kill you_, cat!" coupled with a "Ron, _please_ stop! Think rationally!"  
  
Harry rubbed his neck and opened the door, walking back and bending down under the sofa where the blue had gone. Orion was huddled beneath, his large amber orbs fearfully watching the door.  
  
"_The redhead will kill me_!" he hissed anxiously.  
  
"Why?" Harry asked.  
  
"I told—"  
  
"Alright, where'd the bloody beast go?!" Ron asked irately, barging into the room.  
  
"_Shut up_!" Harry retorted irately, getting up and turning to Ron.  
  
Ron opened his mouth, but it closed when he saw Brenna was asleep. Hermione came in, cheeks flushed and her being a little winded, but she gasped.  
  
"Harry, what happened?" she asked in a hushed whisper, Ron closing the door and locking it. He began stalking around the room, looking for Orion.  
  
"Part of..." Harry began, and then he paused. He still hadn't told them...  
  
"Well?" Hermione asked, moving over to Brenna as she did. She sat down on the edge of the couch, placing her hand on Brenna's forehead. Brenna mumbled something, turning her head away as her eyes closed even tighter. Hermione jerked her hand away.  
  
Orion came from his hiding place, glaring at Harry; "You didn't _tell them_?!" he asked incredulously; "Harry, they should—GYAAHHHH!!" he yowled as Ron grabbed him harshly by the scruff of his neck.  
  
"Gotcha, you pervert!" Ron said, a wicked grin on his face; "Now you'll pay for spying on Hermione!"  
  
"Hermione, Harry, _save me_!" Orion yowled, eyes shut tight with pain as he was clawing at Ron. Ron held him away, but was walking towards the fire. "I've no interest in witches! She's not my kind nor within the rightful ages anyway!"  
  
"Oh, so she's not _good enough_ for you?!" Ron asked, dangerous fire in his eyes. And it wasn't from the reflection of the fire place.  
  
"Yes!" Orion replied madly; "She's not an elf, therefore not worth my love in _that _manner! Perhaps it's _you_ who is perverse!"  
  
"Yeah, that can be you're last thought—!"  
  
"Ron!!!" Harry and Hermione shouted, both rushing over. Harry pulled Ron back, while Hermione slapped his hands and caught Orion. She held him to her chest, whispering soothing nonsense to the cat while stroking his fur gently. Orion turned and looked hatefully at Ron as Harry let him go.  
  
"Ron, how dense are you?!" Harry asked, "Honestly, he's an elf! And he's Brenna's brother, for gods sake!"  
  
"What?!" Ron and Hermione asked in unison. Hermione dropped Orion in surprise, and the cat growled.  
  
"So much for remorse," he muttered, getting to his feet shakily; "I will not be treated in such a manor!" he hissed, baring his fangs as he growled and looked at Ron. Hairs stood on in, claws were bared, and the fight was on. Orion made to lunge, but Harry stepped in and scooped him up, taking him over and plopping him down by Brenna.  
  
"Stay," he said, pointing to the spot.  
  
"_I'm no mongrel, either_," Orion muttered darkly.  
  
"Alright, hold on!" Hermione said loudly when Ron started muttering and Orion was grumbling. Harry was preoccupied with keeping Brenna asleep and out of it, she apparently needed the rest.  
  
"Don't yell!" Orion said hoarsely, padding back over to the couch and jumping onto it; "Brenna _must_ rest!" he hissed, turning around to them.  
  
"Please explain to us... what's going on?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.  
  
Ron sat down amongst the cushions, and so did Hermione. Harry was silent, looking up from his sitting position on the couch. Orion did as well. They exchanged glances.  
  
"You explain;" Harry said finally, sighing, "It's complicated."  
  
Orion sighed, then turned to the other two; "Well, you know I am Brenna's brother. Mind you I'm in no line with McNay. But, it has a great deal to do with it all. Perhaps the beginning would be best..."  
  
And so he explained the coming of the Torch, how it had been passed to Brenna, and of course he told them of McNay, though he didn't go so far as to say he was now in line with Voldermort. Only Harry knew that, and he swore he'd keep it his own secret. But Orion finished almost two hours later. Surprisingly, all of them were attentive; even Ron didn't falter or fall asleep.  
  
"So, Brenna..." Hermione said finally, in a choked sounding voice.  
  
"Is a living power house," Ron finished, sinking further into the cushions. He was staring ahead, a look of numb shock on his features.  
  
Orion nodded; "To say the least," he replied, sighing; "I thought it was a mere rumor myself, but when Brenna collapsed in the first symptoms, I... my fears were confirmed only further more..." he bowed his head sadly, got down, and padded over to Hermione. She scooped him up into her lap, and he curled up, heaving a shaky sigh. She began to stroke his back, gazing sadly over at Brenna.  
  
"It doesn't sound like it's such a bad thing," Ron mused; "I mean, Harry, she could contend with you, mate. No offense, of course..."  
  
Harry shook his head; "No," he said wearily; "Her magic's completely different than mine."  
  
"How so?" Hermione asked.  
  
Orion lifted his head, turning around so his face could be seen by everyone else; "Harry's magic is hereditary, like Brenna's, but he received it _directly_ from his parents," he paused; "Brenna's is passed down, spread through and over in her blood. It's unstable, in a sense, for that reason alone."  
  
Harry picked up the book he had been reading, and opened it; "Orion," he said; "What are the Six Stars?" he asked, looking up and at the cat.  
  
Orion looked at him, then the book, then up at the ceiling. It had changed, now resembling a starry night sky; "Six stars were chosen to draw power from, in the dawn of the Beacon. _Ara_, the altar, where which all was to be brought. _Vulpecula_, the fox, from which skill was forged;" as he spoke, certain stars were pulled down to them, to create the constellations. It was beautiful, they floated around like little gathering of pixies; "_Phoenix_, from which courage and wisdom was taken. _Lupus_, the wolf, from which power and strength was revealed. _Columba_, the dove, from which brought peace to the mind, body, and soul. And _Hydra_, the water serpent, from which speed was attained;" he sighed; "With these six, the precedence of creating the torch within a soul was born..." he laid his head on Hermione's knee, and hummed forlornly as his eyelids drooped.  
  
"How do you know all this stuff?" Ron asked, eyeing the cat critically.  
  
Orion lazily looked at the redhead; "By living my eighty years of life watching those I love fall and die," he replied glumly; "Reading old tomes to distract myself from the reigning terror of evil, passing through my days hoping to see a better tomorrow," he sighed wistfully; "If wishes were dreams, one could sleep forever..."  
  
"Oh, Orion," Hermione said sympathetically, stroking him gingerly.  
  
"Ah, but my life matters not at the moment," Orion said, lifting his head; "'Tis Brenna we must think of now..."  
  
Harry nodded; "Okay, now the Nine Wise," he said, continuing to read.  
  
"Borona, Samsil, Frelesam, Morndan, Arthwise, Margasquae, Terrasu, Greduel, and Asyria. The Nine Wise, or _the Gengedelea_," he added, squinting as he watched the book; "What book is that?"  
  
Harry shrugged; "It has no author," he replied simply; "Just, answers to some questions," he showed them the cover; "See?"  
  
"How interesting!" Hermione exclaimed, setting Orion on the cushion as she rose. He pouted indignantly, but was silent.  
  
Hermione walked over, and picked up a book from a random stack. She looked at the cover, eyes wide; "_What to do when faced with evil_," she read aloud, and quickly opened it. Then she looked disappointed, "Fight righteously, using the power from one's heart and clear mind," she slammed the book; "So, the Room has a sort of sense of cruel humor?"  
  
"Apparently," Orion said, smirking good-naturedly; "Ooh, try the one below it, the blue one."  
  
Hermione picked up the small blue book; "I can't read it," she said; "It's in another language!"  
  
At once, Orion leaped from his sitting spot, and rushed to Hermione. She bent down and set the book on the floor, and Orion hovered over it; "It's in Ancientriss!" he exclaimed; "Ah, the olden tongue! I don't think anyone can speak it, let alone _read_ it!"  
  
"Brenna might," Harry said; "It could be one of her questions," he looked at her worriedly, "Orion, why hasn't she woken up yet?" he asked, looking at the cat.  
  
There was a weary shrug of the shoulders from the cat, and Orion sighed; "I don't know, Harry!" he said exasperatedly; "I'm not a complete _know-it-all_! Perhaps she's weary, like us all!" he added, growling as he clawed at the book; "It's important but _I-can't-read-it_!" he muttered, kicking the book and walking away from it. He slumped in a crouch by the fire, staring at the flames.  
  
"Well, maybe we should get Pomfrey?" Ron asked, ignoring Orion's ranting.  
  
"No, I don't think that would be wise," Orion said, sighing. He looked weary and tired, eyes dulled for some reason; "The woman does not know, and we don't need it spreading like wild fire..."  
  
"I agree," Hermione said, Harry and Ron nodding silently.  
  
"It's late," Ron said, rising as he glanced at the clock; "Almost curfew..."  
  
"And since when, pray tell, have any of you _thrown caution to the wind_?" Orion asked, looking around at them all. He sighed; "But of course, you two _are_ Prefects..."  
  
"Yes, we are," Hermione said, closing another book; "Listen, Ron, Harry, carry Brenna up. Orion and I will go ahead, to make sure the coast is clear..."  
  
Orion had gone to the door, looking back at them gravely. But, he froze when they heard footsteps outside, echoing as they made their way down the hall. There were two sets, then another... then a fourth! They all froze, listening.  
  
"Albus, they aren't anywhere!"—Minerva McGonagall.  
  
"Yes, Pr-Professor, it appears th-that they've... v-vanished!"—a very worried Flitwick.  
  
"Now, calm down, everyone,"—Albus Dumbledore; "I assure you, they are fine."  
  
"Albus, this isn't good! When I got word that they'd found out, all four of them--!"—Kingsley; "What might happen if they find out everything!"  
  
"Kingsley, perhaps we should just gave you a job here," McGonagall said; "You're here more than you are at the Ministry!"  
  
"Who cares about my job, where is my goddaughter!?"  
  
"Keep y-your v-voice down, Mister Sha-Shacklebolt!" Flitwick stuttered; "Th- this isn't s-solving anything!!!!!"  
  
"I quite agree, but there was no need for alarm," Dumbledore replied calmly; "For you see, I happen to know myself that they are all quite safe, right... _here_..."  
  
They four within heard a gentle tapping against the door.  
  
/Oh_ no_!/ Harry thought, slowly standing.  
  
Orion had thought the same, and in a moment of delusion, he had the impression he was human again and braced himself against the door.  
  
"_You're a cat, dumbass_!" Ron hissed almost inaudibly, walking over and scooping the straining feline up and walking back.  
  
They waited, in silence, praying the door wouldn't open.  
  
---  
  
A/N: Mwhahaha I'm evil!!!! Cliffhanger!!!!! TBC-oh it will come quickly, maybe! review 


	20. When the Mask is broken

A/N: I received a review, and now, I am Royally Pissed in the highest manner. I was called stupid and a bad writer... it makes me furious. I believe an email is in order... yes, check out reviews, if you want to know who the dandy ponce of a jackass is... loads Uzi as soon as I'm done stringing up this flamin' review in the old beach tree, I'm gonna hunt the pathetic wuss down and make 'em dance... cha-ching click loaded and ready!  
  
Woo-hoo! Steve, get the hounds! We gonsta go a' huntin' tonight! =laughs maliciously= YEEEEEEEEEE-HAWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! =boom= release the hounds! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! =Boom= Ha-hahahaha! =bang=.... _**thud  
**_  
_MOOOOOOOOO........_  
  
Oh shit. I hit Bessie. I hit Bessie the cow. I hit the prize cow......  
  
Oh well, we havin steaks an' burgers tonight!!!! Now, let's hunt down the dip-shit who called me stupid!!!!!!  
  
P.S. I got titles for the chapters now if you haven't already noticed!  
  
Previously, in chapter nineteen.....  
  
_"I quite agree, but there was no need for alarm," Dumbledore replied calmly; "For you see, I happen to know myself that they are all quite safe, right... here..."  
  
They four within heard a gentle tapping against the door.  
  
'Oh no!' Harry thought, slowly standing.  
  
Orion had thought the same, and in a moment of delusion, he had the impression he was human again and braced himself against the door.  
  
"You're a cat, dumbass!" Ron hissed almost inaudibly, walking over and scooping the straining feline up and walking back.  
  
They waited, in silence, praying the door wouldn't open.  
  
_---  
  
disclaimer: don't own anything.  
  
**-----CHAPTER TWENTY-----**  
  
"But Albus," came McGonagall's weary voice; "It's just a wall."  
  
"Hmm," Dumbledore hummed in thoughtful silence; "Perhaps, Minerva, it is more than that?"  
  
"Albus," Kingsley said suddenly; "Maybe we should finish searching the grounds. They might be in the gardens, or a secret part in the library," he added.  
  
"Of course!" Flitwick squeaked; "Come along, Minerva, you know every inch of the library, and I'll ask Poppy to research the gardens again!"  
  
Soon, two sets of footsteps, one shuffled and fast while the other seeming to have a gliding effect, faded away as they left.  
  
"Now, Mister Shacklebolt," Dumbledore said, "I believe you know what lies beyond this wall?"  
  
There was silence; "That weird room," Kingsley said finally; "Could they be in there...?"  
  
"I have no doubts that they are," Dumbledore said wisely. He turned with a shuffle of feet and a gliding swish of his robes and he apparently faced the wall; "Harry," he said loudly; "Ron, Hermione, Brenna, are you in there?"  
  
Harry exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione, then stared at the door.  
  
"Harry, is Brenna with you?" came Kingsley's agitated voice; "Let us in!"  
  
"We should let them in," Ron muttered.  
  
Orion squirmed from the redhead's hold, falling to the floor. He caught himself almost silently, and darted to hide under the sofa. He hid behind Harry's legs, peering around them and staring intently at the door. Harry felt the cat shake against his ankles, why was he nervous?  
  
The door began to glow. Harry watched as it seemed to disappear, then it reappeared, and opened. Kingsley pushed past Dumbledore as he came in, eyes automatically falling on Brenna.  
  
"_Oh god_," he said desolately, leaning against the door heavily as Dumbledore came in.  
  
"Harry," he said worriedly, stopping as well; "What has transpired here?"  
  
Harry was silent, looking up at his mentor morosely distantly; "Brenna collapsed when we were talking in the library," Harry said quietly; "I panicked, and I... brought her here."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, and then, the old man looked at Ron and Hermione.  
  
"We became worried when they didn't come to the common room," Ron began.  
  
"So, we searched for them," Hermione said, "And, found them here. She's very weak, Professor... We think... it has something to do with her being..."  
  
"_The Torch_," Harry finished quietly. His gaze fell to stare at the stone floor, and then lifted as he heard the door slowly close. Kingsley was watching Brenna, pain and anger mixing in his dark eyes to form a collage of remorse and confusion.  
  
Harry felt Orion shift behind him, and the cat shivered again.  
  
Harry broke his gaze from Kinglsey, a wave of guilt washing over him for who knows why. He felt like he had let Kingsley down, somehow. Harry felt low, awful, it was not a feeling he welcomed at all.  
  
Kingsley let out a heaving sigh; "_What will we do_, Dumbledore?" he moaned, shaking his head as he stared at the ceiling. He froze; "What is_ this_ all about?" he asked, regarding the constellations floating near the ceiling.  
  
"We were researching," Hermione said nervously.  
  
Dumbledore nodded; "It appears that you have all uncovered something," he said quietly, looking up and gazing around at the ceiling.  
  
"This doesn't solve our problem," Kingsley muttered, looking down and shaking his head. He walked over, kneeling on the other side of the couch; "Harry, how long has she been out?"  
  
"Probably what, four hours?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione and Ron. They nodded slowly.  
  
"That's too long," Kingsley mumbled worriedly, placing his hand on Brenna's forehead. She stirred, mumbling something almost inaudibly. Kingsley's brow furrowed with worry as he took his hand away. He slowly rose, exhaling as if it were his last.  
  
The tall black man slowly turned to Albus, his face nothing but grave; "Albus," he said, "She's too cold..."  
  
"Do not get worried, Kingsley," Dumbledore said, drawing his eyes away from the ceiling and walking over to the couch.  
  
Again, Orion stirred, this time pressing himself against Harry's leg, and shivering like mad. From fright or anxiety, Harry didn't know, but it was making his foot vibrate, and it was annoying and unpleasant.  
  
Dumbledore leaned over, feeling Brenna's forehead for himself. Again the girl stirred, mumbling something. But apparently Orion caught it, and he froze. Harry looked down, catching the amber eyes that were wide in fear. Orion's gaze was locked on Dumbledore, however.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, straightening up and looking at his hand. He was staring at his palm, and with a slight sound of discovery, he let his hand fall; "Please tell our hidden guest that he is in no danger."  
  
Harry stared at Dumbledore, wide-eyed in awe. He slowly looked down, moving his legs to reveal a silent and motionless cat, who was looking up at the old wizard in a mixture of annoyance and astonishment. And yes, there was the ever present hint of arrogance and pride.  
  
"Hmm, perhaps there's more to this cat than meets the eye?" Dumbledore mused; "Oh, I'd bend down, but I'm far too old," he mumbled, then, in a flash his wand was out; "_Wingardium Leviosa_," he said, and with a low yowl of frustration, Orion was lifted into the air, levitated a few feet off the ground, nearly at eye-level with Dumbledore.  
  
"Albus, that's just Crookshanks," Kingsley said, with a touch of disdain. He hadn't liked that cat, not since he had stayed at Grimmauld Place over last summer holiday, to find the cat had eaten his stash of sweets and a good bottle of his nip had suddenly "vanished".  
  
"Oh, I'm quite sure there's more to this animal, Kingsley," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, eyeing "Crookshanks" knowingly as he tried to delve into the cat's mind. /As I thought/ Dumbledore thought wearily after a moment, sighing as he visibly shook his head and lowered the cat.  
  
Orion hissed quietly, before trotting over and being scooped up into the loving arms of Hermione, (who, although now knowing of her cat's true nature), still hadn't gotten past the fact that Orion was still soft, warm, and very huggable. Now, she held him to her chest, Orion resting his head on her left shoulder, and gazing at Ron jadedly through hooded eyes. The redhead looked at him, and glared.  
  
"Hermione," Harry said quietly, looking at her.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened; "Harry, no!" she exclaimed; "I'm sorry, but this cat's staying!"  
  
"_What_?!" Harry asked; "I was only going to say turn him around so Professor can finish this!"  
  
Hermione was silent, but pulled Orion from her and turned him around. Orion lay cradled in her arms, head turned to stare at Dumbledore.  
  
"Orion," Dumbledore said quietly.  
  
The cat's eyes widened slightly; "That is your name, correct?" Dumbledore asked; "One of the Banished Few, as Anestrothea puts it?"  
  
"Is that what they call me," Orion mumbled, rolling his eyes; "Oh, you've _caught _me," he said sardonically; "What ever _shall_ I _do_?" he looked at Dumbledore, "If you have any intentions of throwing me back to the counsel, I will turn back just to fight for freedom."  
  
Dumbledore managed a chuckled, his eyes sparkling again; "No, no, Orion, of course not," he said kindly; "I'm only suggesting that, if you intent to stay here—"  
  
"**WHAT**?!" Kingsley shouted loudly; "Albus, it's a talking cat! How do you know it won't just sneak up and kill us all?"  
  
"He's been living with me for years!" Hermione said, her face growing a dangerous shade of red, like that of rose.  
  
"Listen to her," Orion said, a paw held out to Hermione; "I can't hurt a one of them. I don't _wan_t to. I _can't_. I'd _die_ if I did. So really, pinning me as _the maniac_ is pointless;" he added, snuggling into Hermione's arms.  
  
"Listen, I really don't care," Kingsley said, rubbing his temples; "Let a talking cat run around, we're all crazy anyway. I'm here to check on Brenna, anyway," he said, "And I don't like what I see."  
  
"We couldn't help it," Harry said; "It was natural, Mister Shacklebolt, I swear—!"  
  
"I know, Harry!" Kingsley yelled, looking at Harry; "I've _known_! Amadeus was a friend of my grandfathers, I grew up around them! Brenna's mother went to school with me, we were both in Ravenclaw _together_! Of course I'll know what she is!" he added in a strangled whisper, walking back and sliding down against the wall until he was sitting down. The man leaned his head back against the wall; "We can't stop it," he said, "She's got to get out of here," he bowed his head, then looked up to them; "She's got to get home."  
  
"Home?" Harry repeated quietly. /was it that bad?/ he thought.  
  
Orion was looking at Kingsley; "I remember your grandfather," he said knowingly, getting out of Hermione's grasp, landing on the ground, and sitting down; "He was there..." he said distantly. "He brought the people to—"  
  
"He was fifteen and a messenger, nothing more!" Kinglsey said quietly; "I didn't know they were going to take the local lunatic away."  
  
"I kept to myself whenever I came to the Manor;" Orion said, just as quietly; "And I came by to see my father... your grandfather was there, and they were with him. Waiting..."  
  
"We aren't going to solve a thing bickering and picking at each other," Ron moaned; "Put it behind, please? I'm not up for any more arguing! And Orion, shut it, you arrogant beast!" he added, glaring at the cat.  
  
Orion looked at him, setting the paw he had been waving back and forth down on the cold stone. He huffed, then turned to Dumbledore; "I suppose you'll want me to explain myself to you?"  
  
"If you would be so kind as to follow me," Dumbledore said, "But, we must decide Brenna's fate. From her temperature, she is coming down with another symptom..."  
  
"So soon?" Orion asked frantically; "But, She still must prophecy the coming of the ages! She hasn't yet! _She hasn't_!" his hair was on end, he was in a frantic crouch position. His eyes were darting around the room madly.  
  
"I..." he began, shaking his head; "No... no no no _she can't_..."  
  
"Orion!" Harry said loudly, standing up; "Calm down!"  
  
"_No_," the cat said, closing his eyes, bowing his head. The furry shoulders drooped and shook, and soon Orion was going through silent spasms of shaking. He was stock still. Dumbledore watched him. He had an idea at what was coming.  
  
"Kinglsey," the old wizard said quietly; "Perhaps, you'd best take your cloak off. Miss Granger, I suggest you cover your eyes. Mister Weasley, Harry, cover Brenna..." as his voice trailed off, he took a step back.  
  
Kinglsey removed the cloak he had, and Ron moved over to the couch. Hermione backed away and covered her eyes, turning around as well.  
  
All this time, it seemed an atmosphere was forming around Orion. The cat was rigid now, completely still. The aura grew, encompassing him in a golden glow. His fur blew with an invisible breeze, and indeed, one picked up. It whistled past Dumbledore, a slightly visible haze as it moved towards Orion, then disappeared into the glow. Orion shook again, almost a violent thrash that shot down his spine...  
  
And then... the aura exploded.  
  
There was a blinding light, the sound of whispers, and the sudden gust of wind cause Dumbledore to fall back, Kinglsey to press himself against the wall, Ron to almost fall back on Harry and Brenna, and Hermione to fall on the floor. Books came flying from their places, opening up and the pages ripping out to fall in step with the gust. Dumbledore held up a hand, unable to watch due to the intensity of the aura.  
  
And with a resounding boom, the wind ceased, the aura gave off a blinding burst of energy, and the pages fell to the floor, fluttering down to land on the stone. In place of the cat, where Orion once was, now was an ebony- haired young man, ears visible through the tousled mane. He was kneeling, on hand on the floor to steady himself while his other arm was rested on his knee. He was breathing heavily, raggedly even, and each breath brought a quiver to his form. His black robes were torn, tattered, and frayed.  
  
And above it all, he looked as though he couldn't be older than twenty.  
  
Harry stared. He caught sight of the wide, pain-stricken eyes. They were a russet-hazel color, a color Harry hadn't seen before. The man was pale; his cheek bones were prominent on his oval-triangular face. He seemed a little under weight, but muscle was visible. He was lithe and lean.  
  
"Orion," Dumbledore said slowly, lowering his hand.  
  
Everyone else looked as well. Orion tried to raise his head, but only his eyes looked up at Dumbledore.  
  
"It hurts," he said in a raspy voice; "to... move..."  
  
"Just let your body adjust," Dumbledore said; "Kingsley, I need you to get Madame Pomfrey..."  
  
"Wait," Orion managed, slowly standing; "Brenna," he said quietly, turning his head to look at her; "I... she needs to..." he mumbled, then he looked at Dumbledore; "She needs to be warmed."  
  
"We'll take care of it, Orion," Dumbledore said; "Kingsley?" he asked after a pause, turning to face the Auror.  
  
Kingsley was staring at Orion; "You were the one that was dead," he muttered, eyes wide; "The one who..."  
  
"Tried to reform the council," Orion finished quietly, nodding; "Yes, in the dawn of our race's execution, I tried to voice a proposal. And... in that proposal I saw our own victory, our last hope. But nay, my voice went unheard and ignored. I was branded '_traitor_'. I fought, but when my family was threatened, I realized it was die or run. And it was not my time to die," he finished, sighing shakily. Orion looked at Brenna, eyes glazing over with dejection and emotional pain; "All these years," he whispered; "And it leads to this..."  
  
"Orion, it appears you're weary," Dumbledore said; "Kingsley, I want you and Mister Weasley to take him to the bedchambers near the teachers'. Harry, you, Miss Granger and I will take Brenna on to the infirmary."  
  
"I want to be with her," Orion said quietly, looking at Dumbledore; "Please... she's the only one who won't condemn or disown me. I've watched her grow, I've seen her live, and I just want to make sure she'll be fine," he paused; "For her mother's sake, let me stay with her."  
  
The small speech of brotherly endearment left the room significantly quieter, even the fire seemed to have hushed the crackling embers. Though he sounded defeated, Orion was quickly looking and regaining his proud, arrogant air he had held as "Crookshanks".  
  
Dumbledore sighed and nodded; "I'm sure we could make that possible," he said, taking his spectacles and wiping the glass lenses with the hem of his robe; "you do realize, Orion, that now you have converted back to your original state, the others of the remaining Gengedelea will come here for you?"  
  
Orion nodded, "I'll be ready," he said; "It's not like I haven't had eighty years to wait for this."  
  
"What's so special about all of this?" Kingsley suddenly asked, looking at the elf ruefully.  
  
Orion looked at him; "Because," he said, "We are about to witness history. Fate's undoing her ties on Destiny, so that the dove of peace may fly."  
  
"How poetic," Ron muttered.  
  
Orion instantly turned on his bare heels and faced him, obviously straining to keep his face void of emotion; "To learn callously is to mature quickly, Ronald," he said; "That is my lesson of life."  
  
Ron was silent. Kingsley coughed; "Come on, Ron, Hermione, you two need to get to the dorms," he said, walking over to the door; "And Orion, take this;" he turned around and threw the cloak. Orion took one large step and caught it in his hands. He put it on, the coat trailing around his feet and baggy for his size.  
  
"My thanks," he said quietly, rolling the sleeves back a little.  
  
Kingsley nodded, and opened the door; "I'll come by as soon as these two are in the Tower," he said to Dumbledore, who turned and nodded.  
  
Ron and Hermione exchanged looks with Harry, who only lowered his gaze. Sighing, Hermione walked across the room, Ron following. They said quick goodbyes, and then Kingsley led them away, closing the door with a final glance back.  
  
Dumbledore sighed; "Now, I will take Brenna to the infirmary. Harry, I want you to escort Orion there yourself, if you could."  
  
Before Harry could protest, Dumbledore had taken Brenna's hand, and with a loud crack, he was gone. Harry pondered on why Dumbledore had Aparated out, but he was probably an exception ot the wards.  
  
For a moment, no one spoke. Orion was watching Harry, and Harry was watching him.  
  
"Well," Harry said finally, "Come on," Harry said, walking over and opening the door.  
  
Orion nodded, following Harry out into the hallway. They started walking towards the stairs, and Harry would pass glances over at Orion. The young elf couldn't be over eighty years old, it just didn't seem possible. He looked no older than Oliver Wood, for crying out loud.  
  
"You don't look like an eighty-year-old, you know," Harry said suddenly.  
  
"Ah, the wonders of being a cat for so long," Orion said thoughtfully, casting a furtive grin as he looked at Harry; "It stopped the again process completely. I'm surprised myself, I thought I'd have arthritis by now. Can't _wait_ to look in a mirror," he mused, looking ahead.  
  
"Will... Brenna end up living for a long time, like you have?" Harry asked quietly.  
  
Orion looked at him again. He stopped, and Harry did as well. Orion was silent; "More than likely, she'll live at a human's pace," he said finally; "Her mother is in her more than her father, so that would be a likely trait she inherited. No worrying about that, Harry," he said, "You two can grow old together. If that's why you asked, that is..." he added, eyeing Harry.  
  
Harry blushed slightly as they continued walking; "No," he said, coughing.  
  
"Hn," Orion said skeptically, eyeing Harry and lifting his head up slightly, as if inspecting an animal or piece of pottery; "Fair enough," the elf said finally, lowering his head and looking around.  
  
The two continued, making it to the stairwell. "Watch the steps," Harry said as they made their assent.  
  
"I think I know this castle fairly well, Harry," Orion said, smirking.  
  
But as soon as they started up, Orion froze, turning and staring down the stairs intently.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked, groaning as he too, turned around.  
  
"Footsteps," Orion replied simply, his gaze unmoving; "They're hurried."  
  
"It's probably a student trying to not get caught or something," Harry said, "Honestly, and I thought Brenna was paranoid..."  
  
"She is," Orion said blatantly; "_Very paranoid_, in fact. I have a reason though, I can hear it," he was silent; "They're coming this way, no robes..." he snorted; "I know that gate, a Malfoy..." he said snidely, straightening the coat in a sophisticated manor before turning around and walking up the steps.  
  
"What would_ Malfoy_ be doing out so late?" Harry asked, more to himself than around him. He began walking down the steps, but was pulled back with an almost violent tug at his robes. Harry came flying up the steps with a shout, landing flat on his back at the platform, by Orion's feet.  
  
"I smell death carried by the draft," Orion said apathetically, raising his hand and bringing Harry to his feet. Harry felt weightless as it happened, and for a moment dizzy. But he recovered.  
  
"Death?" Harry repeated, quizzically.  
  
Orion nodded; "It does not take wisdom to know what that smell is," he said quietly; "And he is coming this way. I do not feel like getting caught, and you must take me to this infirmary so I can be there for my sibling."  
  
"Fine," Harry said, "Just don't do that again."  
  
"Why?" Orion asked with a chuckle, hand rising again. Harry felt his feet leave the ground, and forced all his will into touching the floor. His feet came back down to the ground, and Orion's smirk widened.  
  
"It's annoying and unnatural," Harry said darkly, "Come on. How old are you again?" he asked sarcastically as he began walking towards the infirmary. The doors were in sight... /Thank the gods/ Harry thought gratefully.  
  
"Oh, but you wizards are so amusing," Orion drawled, hand falling as he followed.  
  
---  
  
Brenna slowly opened her eyes, though her vision was so blurry and the blinding light that greeted her caused her to close them again. She could hear voices, muffled, obscured, but they were there. Some were excited, but others were so full of worry she wondered if she had done something wrong.  
  
But where was she? All she could remember was talking to Harry, saying something she didn't know was coming from her mouth until it had been said, and then... darkness. She had fallen, it seemed, into herself, and had seen nothing but the emptiness of her being. She had remembered chanting, vague voices calling to her in her mother tongue, beckoning her to fall to them, wherever they might be. But she had remained, hanging in the air that held no breath of life, suspended there by invisible chains holding her to some force she possessed, but did not know of. It scared her. She knew what it was. She knew what she was.  
  
Brenna tried opening her eyes again, and the voices started to clear.  
  
"Brenna?" it was Harry's worried, anxious voice that made her turn to his direction; "Oh, thank God, you're okay," he smiled.  
  
"Kingsley, she's awake now," Madame Pomfrey's calm voice calls to the other end of the room.  
  
Kingsley got up from his chair, and hurried over quickly; "Brenna?" he asked, smiling when the girl's head turned to cast a small smile to him; "Gave us a scare, you know," he said.  
  
"Couldn't resist," Brenna said, smiling again with that same, naively mischievous glint other eyes. She was back, Kingsley could tell.  
  
"Brenna," Harry said, "Do you think you could handle some news?"  
  
Brenna slowly sat up, looking around for a while to gather her surroundings. Her eyes then fixed on Harry; "Wha' kinda news?" she asked, looking at Kingsley.  
  
"Ah, you know _Crookshanks_, Hermione's cat, right?" Harry said.  
  
"O' course I do, Harry," Brenna said; "Tha' animal bothas tha door all tha time. Why, somethin' wrong?" she added worriedly.  
  
"Not necessarily," Kingsley, said, his eyes traveling slowly to the door.  
  
And it opened, Brenna's gaze snapping towards it. She gasped. The hair, those eyes, the figure and the ears... She'd only seen it once, in one of the last moving portraits at Delgrishire, and it was a shock to Brenna, though that word was a dramatic understatement.  
  
"Oh... mah... _gods_," Brenna gasped, her hands covering her mouth.  
  
Orion smiled as he walked in, clad in a form-fitting green robe and his hair trimmed and pulled back. "Brenna," he said, the word full of compassion and love.  
  
Kingsley got up, slowly motioning for Harry to do likewise. Harry rose as well, and the two wizards left the two siblings, walking out. Orion had moved and sat on the edge of the bed, Brenna staring at him as if he were a ghost.  
  
Kingsley closed the door, and sighed heavily. Harry was staring at the door, as if seeing through it and watching the two. He sighed as well.  
  
"Well, I fancy a nap at this point," Kingsley said, "didn't get any sleep at all."  
  
"Me either," Harry said, yawning, "Kingsley, thanks."  
  
"For what?" Kingsley asked; "And for the record, that's the first time you've called me by my first name," he added with a small smile.  
  
"For being there," Harry said, "I'm sure you've got more responsibilities than handling troubled teenagers."  
  
Kinglsey chuckled at the blush forming on the boy's cheeks, and said; "Brenna is like my daughter, she _is_ my responsibility. And, Harry, I've always looked out for you, though you might not have known that. This is just my job," he yawned; "And now, the bed beckons..." he mumbled, stretching his long, powerful arms.  
  
Harry laughed; "Yeah," he agreed, "Well, see you," he said as he began walking towards Gryffindor tower, and Kinglsey bid his farewell as well before leaving through the front doors.  
  
---  
  
A/N: Ta Da! Chapter twenty and it's finished! Now review! [Please] 


	21. Accusations and FOrthcomings

A/N: hi, all! Sorry this is late, but i'm over my writer's block finally!

I have art for this story! check out my profile!

Disclaimer: nope. Don't own squat

**Chapter twenty-one**

Orion quickly finished up the letter he had been writing. Rolling it up and tying it off with a piece of string he went to the window, and opened it. Letting the midnight air blow past, and basting in the serenity, he then whistled shrilly. A caw replied, and soon Squawk was on the window sill. Orion tied the parchment to the crow's leg, whispering, "You know who to send this to…" Squawk nipped his fingertip, then flew off.

He ran a hand through his hair as he stood and sighed, glancing over at Brenna. She was asleep, serene as she was bathed in the moonlight. Orion smirked as his eyes landed on what occupied the nightstand beside the bed. It was littered, well, decorated with cards, treats, and the odd assortment of sentiments. His sister was obvious cared for, a worry he at first had was that she wouldn't be accepted, but that was a worry he quickly forgot.

Orion shook his head, and he crossed the room to the door. He could feel the protection spell, and he did not exactly know how to remove it. If he were to open the do0or, the wizard professors would be on the scene in a matter of minutes. But Orion had to get out.

He took the chance, and his hand took the doorknob.

Very slowly, Orion turned it, pulling the door open, freezing with the slightest groan or squeak from the charmed wood. He stepped outside, and satisfied he was not attacked or jumped, began to slowly walk down the spacious, familiar yet foreign halls. Everything was different now, he realized, no longer in the cat's skin and rapidly losing what little advantages he had, made it hard to adapt. But Orion held all this in; it was useless and a waste of time to complain when there was so much more to be done. And the first thing was to find food.

Orion quickly made his way down to the steps, pausing at every movement. He inwardly laughed at his own paranoia. It was ludicrous to be so nervous, but out of habit he was. Eyes never failing to catch the movements from the portraits or the shift of shadows, Orion carried on.

He was to the second floor when a ghost materialized from a wall, one he remembered as Sir Nicholas, or Nearly Headless Nick, as the students referred to him as. Orion found the lack of respect appalling, even if there was humor in the situation.

Nick was gliding through the hall when he spotted the green-robe clad elf standing in the center, watching him. Nick coughed, and was surprised when the young-looking elf gave a bow of his head in recognition.

"Sir Nicholas," Orion said.

Nick paused, floating a mere three feet from Orion; "You're the elf the portraits talk about!" he suddenly exclaimed; "A relative of Brenna's, I presume?"

"The portraits speak of me?" Orion asked timidly, feeling the chill from the ghost.

Nick nodded, floating back at the small shiver that wracked Orion's form. "Of course," the ghost replied; "But only in Dumbledore's quarters. It's too risky to speak of such out here, you know," he added matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

Orion nodded; "Sir Nicholas," he said, "Could you say that there are other elves around?"

Nick paused, before finally shaking his head; "I could not," he replied; "But I will be the first to alert you if it were so."

Orion nodded. He was content that the ghost was capable of speaking in a pattern he understood, and smiled at that; "Thank you," he said, "Now, I think I'll be off to the kitchens for food."

Nick nodded with a chuckled; "It was a pleasure to meet you… err…"

"Orion," the elf said, smirking as he walked around the ghost and headed for his destination.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Orion, two elves had in fact come for him, one, Monague, and another, Anestrothea. But it was Monague, an elf as old as Anestrothea or maybe even older, who was there to take the renegade. Now, the elves bickered in Dumbledore's office, said wizard attentively listening from behind his desk. Fawkes cooed softly as the argument escalated. Unfortunately, the elves had taken to verbally fighting in French, Monague's immediate language, and Dumbledore only caught parts of it.

"…Allowing this to happen can not be excused, Anestrothea!" Montague was saying irately.

"Well, as if I were to know what this was until a mere forty minutes ago!" Anestrothea retorted; "I was as oblivious as you and the others! Do not blame me because the lad was clever enough to evade you for this long!"

At this, Monague began berating in Ancientriss, and Dumbledore gave up trying. He sighed and leaned back into his seat, settling in. Fawkes cooed again, the note singing out in a worried tone.

Dumbledore glanced at the phoenix, whose eyes were glued to the door. Dumbledore watched the door, but nothing happened after a time. He reverted his gaze back to the bickering elves, inwardly chuckling.

This was very humorous for the old man.

* * *

Harry groaned as he rose, his head pounding. He was unable to get a decent night's sleep, and as he attempted to get out of bed to wander over to the window, a sudden image overcame him. He withheld a cry as his scar seared with pain, his hands clamping around it as he dropped to his knees. He fell to his side, curling into a ball.

So much fire, so many screams, so much destruction…

_**Você não tem nenhum cidadela...((1))**_

Such a wicked laugh, so full of malice, and pure, evil malevolence…

Harry couldn't help but groan from it. The voice was hideously familiar, but he did not know what it spoke in Italian for it was beyond him. He sat up, eyes snapping open to see a bleary world. Harry was breathing heavily as he waited for the pain to subside, resting his head back against the bed and cursing under his breath. He finally sighed when it subsided, and unsteadily rose. Harry looked at the clock, seeing that it was so early in the morning. He glanced around the room.

Seamus' vibrant eyes seemed to glow in the half-moon light, the gaze fixed on Harry. He was poking his head out between the bed curtains, worry written on his normally happy face.

"Ya alright there, Harry?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," Harry said unconvincingly, nodded as he rubbed the back of his head and neck. He sighed and sat back down on his bed.

"Ya don't look 'fine'," Seamus said, getting out of his bed and making his way over.

"Shay, I'm alright, really," Harry said earnestly, but the Irishman only halted and crossed his arms, an eyebrow arching skeptically.

"Harry," Seamus said, "I've known ya what, six years? Honestly, we all know yer dream patterns by now," he paused; "Was it about… _you-know-who_?" he asked, eyes darting around nervously.

Harry shrugged; "Dunno," he said; "It was pretty scary, though," all those people, all of that fire… Harry shook his head and got up.

"Where ya off ta?" Seamus asked as he turned away for Harry to change.

"Nick some food from the kitchens," Harry said, "I kinda didn't eat dinner, and that could be the reason for the nightmare."

Seamus snorted; "Suppose I'll cover for ya then, eh?" he asked, turning to face Harry as the dark-haired youth put on a pair of shoes.

Harry smirked; "I'll bring something back," he said, going to his trunk and getting his invisibility cloak.

Seamus shook his head, yawning; "No way, I'm gettin' back ta sleep," he said, walking over to his bed and falling onto the mattress.

Harry shook his head as he left, carefully closing the door. Before he knew it he was out of the door and in the stairwell. Donning the cloak, he then made his way through the common room, and through the portrait hole. As he escaped through the cavernous, cool hallway, he could hear the Fat Lady demanding to know who had opened her and then decided to go back to bed. Harry hid his laughter as he continued down the main stairwell.

Going to the kitchens was something he did very often now a days, most of the times when sleep either eluded him or was impossible to grasp all together. So he delighted in popping down to the kitchens and snacking. Eating apparently calmed him somewhat, enough at least as to where he could think on moderately even ground.

Harry finally reached the portrait with the bowl of fruit. He tickled the pair, it let out a quiet chuckle, and swung open to grant him entrance to the kitchens. Harry stepped through the wide entrance, standing on the platform. It was quiet; the house elves had all gone to rest in their quarters, but sconces and low-hanging chandeliers dimly glowed to cast a faint light about the area. But Harry's eyes fell on the lone figure between the two center tables.

Orion had a faint glow about him, his eyes resonating the same golden hue. It was faint, but noticeable. The Elf was inspecting an almond butter pastry, but by his gaze it was apparent hismind were elsewhere. Silently, Harry removed the invisibility cloak.

"Orion?" he asked quietly.

Orion's head slowly turned, his eyes wide with recognition as they fell on Harry. The elf smiled, a warm, brotherly smile; "Harry!" he said enthusiastically, though not completely convincing; "What's got you up at this hour?"

"I was about to ask you that," Harry asked, walking over; "Any of those left?" he asked, motioning at the pastry.

Orion looked at it thoughtfully, before nodding his head towards the table residing below the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. There, on a silver platter, was a mound of them. Harry went over and took one, and, leaning against the table, took a bite.

"So," Harry said as he swallowed and wiped his mouth of the sugary icing; "Why _are _you down here?"

"Enjoying one last pastry, I suppose," Orion replied, distantly, as if he were drunk with thought.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well, Sir Nicholas may have told me he hadn't seen any others, but I can feel them…" the elf's eyes seemed to glitter with revelation, yet they were grim and morbid with understanding. He was already playing out his fate in his mind, should he miss the chance to escape again…

Harry stared quizzically at Orion, utterly perplexed. The elf was speaking in riddles it seemed, like Brenna often did. /Must be a family trait/ Harry thought. It irked him how some would talk as if the person they were speaking to knew of what they were talking of, when the listener knew nothing at all and was perplexed throughout the conversation. Harry wasn't in the mood for confusion. His head hurt, he was tired, his scar was still burning—to be honest he was near-pissed at even being up so early.

"Come again?" he asked aloud, trying to sound calm and unperturbed.

Orion looked at him; "Oh," he said; "the Council, they're here," he replied; "For me."

"Why would they come after you, anyway?" Harry asked; "what did you do that was so bad?"

"Proved them wrong," Orion murmured, gaze again fixing hazily on the pastry. He leaned back and set the sweet on the nearest bench, walking over to a candle along the wall by the massive ovens. He held his hand near the flame, and then looked back at Harry; "It was like saying that Dogs were meant to be companions and others said they were beasts fit for the use of humans," he said, the flame going from wick to palm.

Harry watched, pastry forgotten, it itself tumbling, falling, from loose fingers to the stone floor below. Orion's gaze never left Harry's, breaking contact only when the ball of fire began to die. Orion turned his attention to the fire ball, walking over to the wizard, all the while muttering quietly under his breath. The fire picked up its life, but began to flicker.

"My magic is not as it should be," Orion mused, fingers closing to form a tight fist. The fire was killed in an instant, and Orion let his hand fall; "that is what I did to the stability of the Founding Fathers, when they were around," he added with a desolate sigh; "I made a point, a lethal blow to what they had kept hidden for so, so long… since the _gomath de le crose_, I suppose…" he shrugged, sitting down on a stool. Sighing, he looked at the floor, lifting his head to stare at the ceiling instead; "They're above us now, in the office of Albus Dumbledore, discussing my fate…" he mused calmly… too calmly.

To say that this was unnerving Harry was to say that the ocean was damp. He was utterly perturbed at Orion's composure and serenity of the entire ordeal. Apparently, whether or not he was to live or die was hanging dangerously in the balance, and he seemed unperturbed. He was nearing a stage where riddles would be second language, a stage Harry never understood fully. He wanted to ask so many questions, but they clouded his head.

"What did you point out?" Harry finally asked.

"That, even Brenna shall never know," Orion said, looking at Harry with tranquil, amber eyes; "Many ordeals shall pass your life, Harry. There is no need for knowing mine."

"But if you're life—"

"My life is safe; trust my word in that," Orion said, smiling half-heartedly as he looked back up at the ceiling; "At least, I hope my grandfather can talk quick enough…"

"Orion, if you need a place to hide, there are a lot of hidden places;" Harry suggested.

Orion laughed, quietly, drying, lacking complete amusement; "Unless I can muster the power to be a cat again, I will forever be within mind's reach," he murmured, closing his eyes and bowing his head. His eyes slowly opened again as he slowly said; "Things were once so simple and effortless…"

Harry only stared at the elf, seeing just how weary Orion looked and he realized that the night had just begun.

"Orion, what you pointed out… did it involve your race being… murdered?"

* * *

"Monague, there is no other choice we can make," Anestrothea finally sighed wearily, rubbing his brow as he sat.

Monague, who was still shaking with pent-up anxiety and rage, sat down as well. He looked at his fellow elfin comrade, and calmly said in clear English; "What will we do?"

"Let him go with a warning?" Anestrothea suggested wearily with a wry grin.

At this, Dumbledore chuckled, unable to hold it all within any longer. Both elves glared at the old wizard; "I find no humor in this," Monague seethed.

"Monague," Anestrothea said; "Orion did nothing but take his intelligence and point out a rather drastic and possibly cataclysmic loophole in our ways, our history…"

"Yes, but he also ripped the very foundation of our culture out from underneath the foundations!" Monague protested; "Remember_ the Masses_, Anestrothea? Remember!"

* * *

Unlike what he had told Harry, Kingsley had failed to fall asleep in his flat. After coming home, taking off his heavy robes in favor of Muggle jeans and a white muscle tea, he had lit several lights, sat down at his desk, and began pouring over case files of Wizards and Witches he was supposedly tracking. A certain file continued to appear, one Kingsley couldn't force himself to throw away, but also one he could not go through again. So it sat, on his desk, near the back, tucked on a shelf, but there, none the less. Now, at two in the morning, Kingsley reached for it.

"Sirius Black," he whispered as he read the bold ink again, on the small booklet. He opened it, saw a moving prison picture of a man he'd worked and fought beside what seemed only yesterday. Kingsley sighed wearily, turning the page, reading the false accusations, the sentence, the time served… turning the page again, a death certificate.

At the sight of this, Kingsley hung his head, and closed the book. Why he kept looking, he couldn't fully answer. Maybe it was disbelief; surely Sirius was still alive, somewhere. Or perhaps denial; he couldn't let himself admit to the truth.

Looking up and patting the booklet's cover, he again set it up in the corner, towards the back, on the shelf, where it would sit, like always. But as He did he heard a sharp tapping coming from the window. This caused Kingsley to jump out of his seat and reach for his wand. He looked toward the window, and then sighed as he calmed. It was only Squawk. The bird was on the windowsill, tapping at the window with its beak. His feathers were ruffled badly, more so than usual, and he appeared weary. As Kingsley approached the window, he saw that the raven had a relatively thick scroll tied to his leg. Opening the window, Kingsley offered his hand as a perch. The raven accepted the offer, cawing wearily at the Aurur. Kingsley removed the scroll, and sat down in the nearest armchair. Squawk flew over to sit on the back of the office chair, and watched as Kingsley unrolled the scroll, and began to read it…

_Dear Mister Kingsley Shacklebolt,_

_I write to you know because the hourglass of time is quickly emptying out for me it seems. I write this scroll because I know you will keep it safe. What I am about to tell you will be a passage of history, unlocking so many secrets that so many people have been wondering about. Since my death is near, for sure, it seems only right that this be told before lies can once again shroud it with mystery._

_The Elves had never been killed off by famine, or disease. No, we were at war with each other. The Council, or Gengedelea, as it was referred to as, was never a full Union of wise elders. More so it was comprised of seven pairs, a female and male in each, from different regions that which they ruled over. At first they were a union, forming the government by which all Elves were to abide by. In the beginning, it was peaceful, everyone agreed to the laws, and the regions were peaceful with one another._

_But for reasons unknown, that changed in the late 1800's. First two regions disbanded from the Council, forming separate governments and laws. Many Elves were against this act of sudden rebellion, but then again, so many were for it. The two disbanded regions joined and became one massive region, and soon, the Council had became a Puppet Government._

_Then the first war came about. It had no specific name, for it was a mere behind-the-scenes maneuver. The Council plotted and planned to ruin the Mega Region. War ensued, death, destruction, and chaos followed. The Council hired special agents to go in and try to destroy the Mega Region from the inside out. Many of the agents were found, and killed in public—as a demonstration that the Mega Region would not be thwarted. _

_By the 1900's, though, the Mega Region was losing in forces and many refugees were heading for neutral regions. Delgrishire estate was even a hospital for the wounded. But finally the Mega Region rejoined the Council, disbanding and once again the seven regions were separate, yet unified. Over the course of thirty years new leaders came into power, one being my Grandfather, Anestrothea. But then Tom Riddle went on his rampage, raging about a new world cleansed of "mudbloods", even as he himself was not pure. His Death Eaters came to us, the Elves, and when the Council unanimously turned them down, Riddle was furious and waged a secret war against us. _

_We did not expect this war, these gorilla tactics. Death Eaters would come in through the night, kill the men and rape the women, torture children and burn houses down with their occupants still inside. We all hid in the forests, charmed castles that appeared to be ruins were actually safe houses. But even some Death Eaters found those. Riddle himself killed many of the Council Members._

_I approached the Council about Riddle, and of my maniac brother, McNay. I explained that there was another way at saving what was left of our populace. We would have to approach the wizards and witches, ask for a partnership in combating the menace that plagued both worlds. But the Council was stubborn, and said that our strength was suffice enough. But I knew better; our numbers were low, our power was weakening, and Riddle could kill us all off at the rate we were going. Besides, the eminent fact that our society was crumbling was also a sign of our loss. Riots and rebellions were occurring in the seven regions, many elves had rebuked the Council and slandered its name. _

_I myself was against the Council members. They were snobbish elves selfish in their own right and callous in war tactics. The only decent members were my grandfather and my late grandmother. Monague was also decent, though he had a great dislike for me. My observations were dubbed idiotic, and I was dismissed. As time went on, seven years into Riddle's rampage, in fact, I finally started putting pieces together. Attacks on our kind had slowed, many rioters had quieted, or disappeared. I even noted the somber mood that had engulfed my people. My grandfather had also been removed from the Council. One eve I stole into the Hall of Trilogy, where the Council met and the building that stood on the center mountain of the regions (it's in the Alps). There, I found documents there that shocked and outraged me. Several Council members had signed a contract, stating that they would not side with the wizards if there were to be a war, and that two regions would be given up so that they would not participate. Also, if a hostage situation were to occur, they were to do nothing, and if the Elvin Race was ever made known, we were to do nothing about that, as well. _

_It had been formally written out by Tom Riddle himself._

_And already, five out of the eight remaining Council members had signed it.._

_I confronted the Council as soon as possible, the document I had burned to ashes earlier. I couldn't believe that the very beings I'd entrusted my safety to were about to sign all of us to death. Immediately I was yelled at, called a traitor and a price was put on my head. I was hit with so many curses as I made my escape, that I lay in a forest in a large oak tree for days trying to regain strength enough to transform into my cat form, Crookshanks. I was in hiding up until a few hours ago._

_Talk of the Torch was circulating with my sister's birth. It was said that when she was born a white phoenix landed on the water and burst into blue flame, and the hatchling floated in the water amongst the ashes, never drowning. My stepmother was also drained of her magic for some time. Brenna was showing the signs of power earlier on. When she was two she became blue with an aura that surrounded her, and we found an unconscious Death Eater outside the window near the room in which she had been playing. She had absorbed all of his magic, on the fact that he was sent to cause harm. This happened again when she was seven, but then her mother and father were killed, regardless. _

_So you see, Mister Shacklebolt, we Elves have not died of famine, or disease. War has killed us off. Riddle is still trying to kill us off, now that he has his power restored. He will search for Brenna. Please, you must make sure she lives, for the sake of our race, and for her being the Torch. Be her father figure, her brother, her friend; just do not let her die. Tell her that I love her, and that I would not have wished that she would have gone through such an ordeal. God Speed to you._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Orion McBennitea_

"Dear God," was all the man could gasp, the parchment falling from shocked hands.

_

* * *

_

"Harry, why so many questions so soon so young?" Orion asked wearily.

"I want to know, Orion, this involves me as well," Harry said, trying to keep calm and his frustration hidden.

Orion watched him for a time, before sighing and looking away; "Yes," he replied quietly.

Harry nodded, before sighing; "How many died?" he asked.

"Well over ten thousand…" Orion said; "to start with. The plagues, the viruses, epidemics, wars, they all took their toll;" he sighed; "Quite turbulent, really. All blood and gore and sadness… There's not but a little over a hundred of us left, only four members of the_ Gengedelea_ left, too," he added musingly.

Harry nodded again, taking it in. So it was never peaceful in their world, something was always happening; "Orion," he said quietly; "Brenna… what would the… other elves think… of us being together?"

"Hmph," Orion said, "Probably what they did to my father and Brenna's mother," he replied; "Ignore you both unless Brenna were to leave you or either of you were to die."

"Oh, that's a welcoming thought," Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Suddenly, Orion's eyes became wide with sudden worry. His eyes darted around, "Something's wrong," was all he mumbled before he ran out of the kitchen with speed Harry wouldn't have expected. The latter blinked several times before he registered what the elf had said, then he shot after Orion.

* * *

Brenna shot out of bed, falling over the side and onto the cold, hard stone floor. She gasped and choked; the air seemed so cold. Clutching her throat, she looked around as candles suddenly came to life, casting threatening looking shadows everywhere. Attempting to scream as the sound of footsteps headed for her, Brenna crawled back into bed, wrapping the blanket around her and coughing uncontrollably. She closed her eyes and bent backwards, back arching and then she was on her side with pain. Her chest felt constricted, she coughed more for air, pleading for solace.

Madame Pomfrey rushed in, closely followed by McGonagall. "Brenna, dear, listen to me! Take deep breaths!" Pomfrey instructed.

McGonagall took one of Brenna's arms, Pomfrey the other, and the two held the thrashing girl to the bed. Brenna screamed "Let me go!" shrilly, her eyes white-over as she threw her head back and screamed again. This time the very walls shook, the chandeliers with their wax candles swinging, the flames casting crazy shadows.

"BRENNA!"

The doors had burst open and Harry along with Orion sprinted in, Harry being the one who had shouted out the elf-witch's name. "Stay back, Mr. Potter!" McGonagall warned, not looking up as she tried to keep Brenna down.

"Do not hold her like that!" Orion shouted angrily, pushing Pomfrey aside. Harry did the same to McGonagall, though he only pulled her back gently by her shoulders.

Brenna, with shoulders up and arms still on the bed, was still in that position, as if still held down, then she just… fell. Like dead weight. The walls stopped shaking; the chandeliers swung slowly like pendulums. For a moment, no one spoke. Harry moved from behind McGonagall and walked over slowly to Brenna. Orion was on his knees by the bed, head bowed in relief and weariness. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, shell-shocked. He looked at Brenna's pale face. Her mouth was slightly open, her chest barely rising, and her eyes still white, as if she were blind.

Slowly, Orion lifted his head, watery amber eyes shining; "It's started," he muttered somberly, before reaching out and taking Brenna's hand. A single tear fell and dampened the bed sheet below.

Dumbledore, Monague and Anestrothea rushed in, the elves ahead of the wizard. Right away Anestrothea appeared ashen with the sudden onset of grief. "No, not my grandchild," he breathed wretchedly as a sob threatened to come forth.

Orion got up and backed away for the older elf, and Anestrothea scooped Brenna up in his arms, weeping. Monague stood there, silent, and slowly he took off his small hat before bowing his head. Orion was at a loss as to what he could do; he felt so helpless, what could he do?

Harry had gotten up when Anestrothea had scooped Brenna up. He looked at Dumbledore, his eyes screaming for the elder to do something.

"Albus, what is this all about?" McGonagall asked wildly; "Who are all of these people?"

Dumbledore motioned for her to come over, and he whispered in her ear. For a moment, the old witch's eyes grew wide, but she quickly composed herself. She nodded, somberly.

"What is there to do?" Anestrothea asked, his old weary eyes fixed on the ceiling; "My poor grandchild, I am sosorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes and bowed his head again; "_me delgap telegnu medolce ymono..."_ he whispered. Orion's eyes grew watery at the endering Elfin term. Monague caught it as well, the old tongue of their people a sad call of apology.

"Grandfather," Orion said quietly; "We… the Council," his eyes glanced heatedly at Monague for a moment, "If they find out…"

"They shall take her, I know," Anestrothea said as he laid Brenna down carefully. Carefully he closed her eyelids, and then he stood. He had not bothered to wipe his eyes of tears; they still came freely. He looked at Monague; "Monague," he said, his deep tenor voice jolting everyone from the somber stupor; "If you breathe a word of this…"

Monague looked at Anestrothea, then at Brenna. Holding his hand out, he held it towards Brenna. Orion made to rush over, but a blanket manifested in the air, and drifted down to cover Brenna. Moving the ends of his fingers, Monague tucked the girl in. Sighing, his hand fell.

"I am too old for such things as this," he muttered as he held his little hat in his hands; "Perhaps my fellow Council members can stand a little more treachery."

Orion relaxed. He sat down on a bed, and held his head in his hands. Monague walked over to him, sternly looking down at the elf. "By all rights I should kill you here and now," Monague said, and Orion looked up at him sharply; "But," the old elf continued; "I believe that now, passing judgment would be most unwise. Therefore, I will grant you leave. Your trial shall be postponed until peace reigns."

"You still intend to condemn me for my own queries?" Orion asked, getting up. Monague did not move, and although he had to look up slightly, he did not let it seem as if he were shorter.

"What you did, the accusations you rudely shouted, demands—"

"That document was proof enough of my anger and you know that!" Orion said angrily, teeth gritted and fists clinched at his sides; "And IN the end your title and mine will be the same. You know that the moment I came in there, with that _Contract_, that you were as good as no other."

Monague's rosy face became redder; "I will not tolerate—!"

"That is enough!" Dumbledore shouted, surprising everyone. The two bickering elves froze and looked at Dumbledore, as did everyone else.

"At this moment in time history has been born," the old wizard began wisely; "Why mar such a moment with a spat and possible bloodshed? Let us all leave. Brenna will wake perhaps and our numbers might disturb her."

As the people filed out, Harry stayed back, standing by the bed and looking down at Brenna. Gently he touched her hand; "Harry," he heard Dumbledore call; "That means you as well, my boy."

Harry looked at his headmaster; "Please, sir," he asked quietly, just above a whisper; "I… just please…"

Dumbledore bowed his head in defeat; "Very well, then," he said.


	22. Foreshadowing

A/N: wow, you all will probably kill me for such a late update! I had terrible writer's block, I'm soooooo sorry. So I made this chapter extra thick with goodies!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 

"Dumbledore, are you mad?"

Dumbledore turned at Monague's outburst, once he, Dumbledore and Anestrothea were all outside in the corridor.

"I have been accused of such quite often, but no, I think I'm not," the old wizard replied with a tired grin.

Monague only became more furious; "We cannot leave that… _traitor_, in there."

"_Traitor_! You are the one who signed with _He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named!"_ Anestrothea said heatedly, rounding on the other elf.

"Gentlemen, if you would kindly refrain!" Dumbledore interjected; "IT is bad enough my students engage in such bickering, but really, two grown adults?"

Anestrothea straightened the collar of his robes. "Albus, perhaps I might stay the night? At least until Brenna is well enough to go home," he added, changing the subject.

"Why of course, old friend," Dumbledore said; "Would you like a bed as well?"

Monague huffed; "No, thank-you, I will be leaving," he said brusquely. "Gentlemen," was his only word of parting as he brushed past the two.

"Quiet the irate fellow, wouldn't you say?" Dumbledore muttered with mirth.

Anestrothea chuckled, then thoughtfully replied; "Yes, but that is how they're grown in the Mega Region…"

* * *

The following morning shined down on a peaceful, misleading scene. In one bed, a girl, silent, and still, and in another, a young man older than his face perceived. And sitting in a chair, wide awake, sat the boy everyone counted on. Weary, exasperated, and frustrated, Harry Potter waited and waited. He held the cool hand of Brenna, though it was warm he knew it was too cold. He spoke of soft things; things that would have otherwise caused her to laugh, things that would have pleased her. No, no talk of war, or destiny, or fate, or anything deep. Harry didn't want that. He would often stop and ask for her to return, beg for her to come around, and be whole again.

Madame Pomfrey walked out of her chambers, and saw Harry sitting there, where she had left him the night before. She stared sadly at the setting, her heart projecting nothing but remorse for the group. Quietly she walked over, and placed a hand on the teen's shoulder. The contact caused Harry to jump slightly, but in the end, it was nothing great.

"Harry," the mediwitch said quietly; "You can go rest if you wish. I'm here and I'll alert you if anything changes."

"No, I want to be here," Harry said, voice slurring slightly from fatigue.

"Harry, you need rest," Madame Pomfrey insisted. "If you don't at least lie down in that bed, I will force a sleeping drought down your throat!"

The threat was far from empty. Harry looked up to her, and then stood. Walking over to the bed beside Brenna's, he laid down. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, watching as Madame Pomfrey shuffled away. A long exhale emitted from a sore throat, and Harry fell asleep.

* * *

Ron hadn't slept well, in fact, he hardly had. When he and Hermione had been sent up to the Tower, Hermione made him go and retrieve Harry's invisibility cloak. Then, together they waited for nearly an hour, and then snuck down to the Restricted Section. Once there Hermione had collected nearly ten books and Ron soon became the pack mule. Returning to the confines of the Tower, they then sat by the fire and began pouring over dusty pages that had not seen any form of light in possibly decades. Ron quickly lost attention o f the matter, reading not a stronger point to his disposition, and twice fell asleep on the sofa. But Hermione had woken him up each time.

Now, the sun was faintly shining, just barely beginning to grace the earth with its light. Ron yawned for what had to have been the millionth time, and Hermione rolled her eyes as he exaggerated a stretch.

"What are we looking for, again?" Ron asked.

"Anything," Hermione replied, scanning a page; "Anything that could help us find out what's wrong with Brenna…"

"Well we know what _that_ is," Ron said.

"Yes, but still, we don't know where she stands with the war," Hermione muttered, "I don't know, maybe we're trying to hard?"

Ron shrugged. A sudden tapping at a window caused them both to jump. Looking over, they saw three crows perched on the sill, one being Squawk. The other two were similar, though one was slightly smaller, a juvenile, and the other was older than its companions.

"Ron," Hermione said slowly, rising warily.

"Yeah, go get Harry," Ron finished, getting up quickly.

Again, Squawk pecked on the window impatiently, ruffling his feathers in a display of dominance. The oldest crow snapped its beak and nipped Squawk, who cawed loudly and flew off for a moment. The oldest bird looked at Hermione, deep penetrating eyes boring into her.

"No, open the window," Hermione said quietly; "Quickly, and then the portrait."

Ron stared at her, and then looked back at the window. With a sigh he walked over, and unlatched the window. The birds flew in, and Ron rushed to open up the portrait hole. The Fat Lady screamed as the crows careened out into the hallway, and darted off down to the stairwell. Hermione was following them in an instant.

With a groan, Ron followed.

* * *

"Shacklebolt, this cannot be tolerated."

Kingsley sat in the desk chair, listening to the lecture. Rufus Scrimgeour, the man who had replaced Cornelius Fudge, walked around the pristine office as he ranted to the Auror. Kingsley tried to stay sitting up, his conscience urging him to slouch in deliberate disrespect. He was not fond of the new Minister. Since his arrival, he had been barking orders, firing off witches and wizards, and most of all, shutting down investigations. Now it seemed that Kingsley's investigation was coming to an abrupt close.

In retrospect, he could not find any anger for this reality. For months he had been making up stories and false sightings of the ever elusive Sirius Black. But he himself knew the truth, and it hurt to be reminded of it. Sirius's death had dealt a blow for everyone. Kingsley was ready to let go, and move on. He knew that, with the closure, so could so many others. That's what people needed anyway, closer.

"The Black Case is finished. I want you out in the field."

Kingsley's eyes widened at this; "Sir?" he asked, perplexed.

Scrimgeour went to sit behind his desk; "You heard me," he said; "I want you out in the field. This silly desk work must end. We've no time for it. You're to be stationed primarily in Hogsmeade. There have been reports that You-Know-Who has begun to encroach upon Hogwarts, primarily for one Harry Potter."

Kingsley nodded, though he snorted indignantly within. OF course Voldemort was always after Harry Potter. But Kingsley doubted that the new Minister had been informed of another sinister evil. He doubted that the elves would wish any form of contact with Scrimgeour. He was a very brusque and conservative man.

"Also, in light of certain things, you may be taking on a part-time roll of Defense against the Dark Arts professor."

Now Kingsley sat straight and forward. Him, _a teacher_? He could barely tolerate children as it were, He considered very few to be good company. He could not see himself having the tolerance and patience for such an assignment.

"Sir, if I may…"

"I don't care if you don't want to, Shacklebolt, you have to," Scrimgeour seemed to sneer this statement, as if he got some sick pleasure and making others feel frustrated, and powerless.

_Wanker_, Kingsley thought bitterly as he leaned back in his chair, gnawing on his knuckle as he sorted his thoughts. He was not about to get out of this, he knew it. Scrimgeour was unmovable.

"Pack your things, Mister Shacklebolt," the Minister said; "You're going to Hogsmeade. A flat has been purchased for you; the ministry will cover rent until your stay is through."

* * *

Unlike before, Brenna woke up peacefully. The infirmary was quiet, and she enjoyed the silence. She felt energy all around her though, the buzzing in her ears building up. She rubbed her eyes and her vision focused, and the first thing she saw was Harry's plaintive, sleeping face. He seemed so worn out, so old for such a young face. The dark circles under his eyes had yet to vanish. Brenna felt a horrible pang of guilt, and ashamed she looked away.

Rolling over though, she only saw the back of her brother. She could not tell how he was doing; she could not read his face. Brenna sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees and sighing. Desperately she wanted to sleep more, to become strong again. But the last episode had drained her, and now, she feared what she wanted most.

Her thoughts began to blend, to mix. She rubbed her eyes and then her temples. Why was she so confused? She was having trouble placing some names with faces, and faces with voices. A rush of memories with no allotted space in her mind suddenly overwhelmed her. She fell back onto the bed, curling up with her head in her hands. This had happened to her before, and if she had made it the first time, she would surely last this time. But the voices, the flashing scenes, the clutter…

Finally, it stopped. Brenna let go of the breath she had been holding, her body relaxing. She stared forward, not really seeing anything, as her mind registered and the world made sense again. She went slack, hands falling limply to the bed. She just lay there, overcome but not worn out enough to pass out.

"'Arry?" she whispered hoarsely, looking to the boy she had asked for.

Harry at first mad no movement, and she whispered his name again. This time his response was a groan, and Harry tossed the hair out of his face as he rolled onto his back to stretch. He looked over, eyes hooded. When he saw Brenna awake he grinned lopsidedly.

"'Ello, love," he mumbled, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed; "Gave me a scare earlier."

"Sorry," Brenna mumbled, blushing.

Harry chuckled and rose, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, Brenna's body consequently wrapping around his; "hungry?" he asked.

Brenna shook her head; "What time is it?" she asked.

Harry looked around, and shrugged; "I don't know, really," he replied casually, "morning, apparently."

"Oh," Brenna said, regarding the streaming sunlight; "'Arry…"

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at her worriedly. She spoke so softly, he had to lean down to hear her reply.

"I'm sorry."

Harry straightened back up; "Sorry for what?" he asked, just as quietly.

She scooted over, and invitation. Harry lay down, brushing locks of hair from Brenna's face. She stared at him plaintively. He saw tears pooling in her eyes.

"Brenna," he said as her eyes shut to hold back the tears and she bit her bottom lip. Harry instinctively held her, his arms holding her small, diminished form against his. "You'll be fine…" he whispered, the only coherent thing in his sweet nothings.

"I'm bound t' die, 'Arry," she sobbed, and he only held her closer.

"Of course not," he replied, looking down as he held her face up with his hand; "You're too strong."

Brenna could only frown; "So you say," she said, jerking her head away and looking down.

Lost for words and endearment, Harry only kissed her forehead. Brenna sighed, and held onto Harry's shirt for comfort, grabbing to something she knew was physical and real. Suddenly, a loud crack went through her mind, and her eyes popped open wide.

Harry noticed; "What?" he asked.

"Someone's here."

* * *

Hermione followed the three crows, her feet carrying her faster than she ever imagined. Her heart pumped adrenaline through her and she felt light as air. She did not understand why the birds were so methodical in their wanderings. They went to the third floor, then to the fifth, then to the sixth and finally up towards the astronomy tower. They found the winding staircase and followed upward to the trap door. The oldest landed just below it, Squawk following suit. The youngest though, scratched and cawed at the trap door. Hermione climbed the stair after them, hearing Ron behind her, and finally, she reached the platform.

Still high on her adrenaline rush, she quickly pieced together what the birds wanted. Waving her wand the trapdoor and accompanying ladder fell down, and the birds went out into the open. Curious, Hermione followed. But when Ron grabbed her ankle on her assent, she looked down.

"Don't…go…" Ron panted.

"Get Dumbledore?" she asked quietly.

Ron let go of her ankle, staring at her, trying to find out what she was thinking. But he was not better off and so with a huff he left, back down the stairs. Hermione turned and continued up the ladder, beginning to feel the results of her running.

The crows were all along the tower walls, cawing to on another conversationally. When Hermione surfaced they quieted, and they watched as she regained her breath. Squawk cawed at the youngest crow, who in turned clicked his beak at the eldest.

Hermione watched as the oldest crow hopped down onto the parapet. It let out a caw and bent over as its body began to convulse. It grew larger and feathers receded for fabric, beak disappeared for a face. Wings were traded for arms and talons for boots. Fine, billowing robes appeared, and then a cane. When the transformation was complete, Kasimir Gastolph was standing there.

"Ah, Miz Granger, I presume?" he asked, holding his hand. He held an eloquent smile to his features, hoping she would respond in kind.

But Hermione stood straight, merely staring. Kasimir's face fell with his hand, and he coughed; "I assume dat Mister Potter is wit' the elfin child," he said, looking around; "Vell, I s'pose you have sent for Albus? Dis is good, shame do that you do not trust me…"

"Why should I?" Hermione snapped bitterly. She had read all about vampires, and knew about their treacherous and selfish ways.

"Ah, chil', you read, do you not?" Kasimir had a knowing twinkle in his dark eyes; "Well, perhaps you vould like to meet my reason for fighting?" he turned to the youngest crow, and nodded.

In the same nature as Kasimir, the crow began to change. Black feathers became unkempt brown hair; beady black eyes became wide, deep sapphire pools. Feathers became simple teen's clothing, and talons were traded for worn boots. The young man finally raised his head, stuffed his hands in his pockets. Finally, a long coat manifested, and the transformation was inclusive.

"My son, Tristan…"

Hermione blinked. "What do you want?" she asked.

Kasimir sighed; "I knew you vould follow me, you are intelligent. But by no means did I expect you to be so… brusque," he said.

Hermione blinked in confusion; "Oh," she said.

Kasimir nodded; "Vill you please take us to Albus?"

But there was no need. Ron came bounding up the ladder, reaching Hermione's side with a puzzled; "What the bloody hell?" as he did.

The young man, Tristan, muttered something in another language smugly as he averted his gaze elsewhere.

Ron shot him a glare, and then turned to Hermione; "who's that?" he asked.

"Remember the little crow?" Hermione replied, holding her hands apart slightly to show the size.

"No!" Ron said

"Ahem," Kasimir said.

"Oh yeah," Ron said, "Dumbledore's coming, along with McGonagall…"

"Oh, we should really get down from here, then," Hermione said, then she looked at Kasimir; "I'm sure you can understand why."

"Of course," Kasimir said with a nod; "After you."

The group went down the ladder and then down the stairs, finding McGonagall and Dumbledore waiting for them. Dumbledore smiled and shook hands with Kasimir.

"Ah, Mister Gastolph, my good friend! How long has it been?" Dumbledore asked with an infectious laugh.

The vampire smiled in kind; "Too long my friend and it iz terrible, my reason for being here."

"Oh, well then, come to my office. But wait, who is this strapping fellow?" Dumbledore asked, seeing Tristan.

Kasimir placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "This is my son, Tristan," he replied; "That is vhy vee are here, mostly."

Dumbledore nodded. He then turned to Ron and Hermione; "Would you two please go to the infirmary?"

"Um, of course sir, but…" Hermione began; "why?"

Dumbledore smiled; "Well, if I'm correct, Brenna is awake and so is Harry. And I'm sure you've lost to talk over."

Hermione understood; "Come on, Ron," she said, taking the afore mentioned boy's hand as she left.

"Minerva, have accommodations ready, would you?" Dumbledore asked, and the old witch nodded.

"Of course," she said, and she too, turned to leave.

Kasimir sighed; "Something has happened."

* * *

Tea and sandwiches were brought to the office. Dumbledore and Kasimir sat off to the side, in the little nook with wide windows overlooking the peaceful grounds of the schools. Tristan had taken to the personal library Dumbledore possessed, as well as Fawkes, the phoenix. The majestic bird sat on a pillow next to the boy, who stroked the long fiery feathers.

Dumbledore glanced back to see Tristan preoccupied, and then looked to the vampire; "What troubles you, Kasimir?" he asked worriedly, in the vampire's native Estonian.

Kasimir sighed, sipped on his tea; "_You-Know-Who_ came to my home, wanting to form an alliance," he replied; "He… he has threatened my son, Dumbledore. He told me that if I did not start gathering up fellow vampires and siding with 'his cause', he would kill my son, and throw me into a life of despair. I know this man—_this thing_—can do such a thing. I can handle a life of despair, I am living one now. But if he were to take away Tristan…" Kasimir looked over his shoulder for a moment; "No, I would rather die a thousand deaths. I have com for two reasons. One, to let you know that _You-Know-Who_ is growing desperate. It is obvious because he is going to great lengths, lengths he never has before, to get more troops.

"When he came to me, he was a shell of the image everyone has believed. He seemed… to be dying. I am guessing that his soul is growing weary, or whatever soul he has not destroyed yet…"

Dumbledore nodded; "This is bittersweet news," he said; "And, I'm guessing that the second reason is you want safety for Tristan?"

Kasimir nodded; "I realize this is a lot to ask," He said; "But, I will help in any way possible. I understand that this is a school, not a safe house, but…"

"Fret not, Kasimir, I will keep watch over your son," Dumbledore; "But, I must know some things about him, first."

"He suffers from my affliction," Kasimir said regretfully; "He is almost seventeen. He has a sharp mind and is rebellious to a certain degree. But he will cause no trouble, I assure you."

"Well, I hope not!" Dumbledore said with an easy laugh; "I have enough trouble with Harry Potter and his friends!"

Kasimir chuckled as well; "Thank you, Albus," he said earnestly.

* * *

Seamus woke up to the sound of construction. Grumbling he poked his head through his curtains to see that the tower appeared…larger? Over on the opposite side, he saw that house elves were busy putting another bed together. Seamus stood up and saw Dean and Neville watching by the furnace.

"We getting another student?" Seamus asked. His roommates shrugged.

"Looks like it," Dean said.

"I just hope he isn't an arse," Neville said.

* * *

Harry studied Brenna's features; "Don't worry about," he said quietly as they snuggled closer together.

But Harry was brought upright as the door burst open and Ron and Hermione ran over.

"That Vampire's here!" Hermione said between her breaths.

"Really?" Harry asked.

Brenna just tried to sink into the bed as they talked.

"Yeah," Ron said; "Has his kid with him too."

"No way," Harry said, and the two nodded.

"He seemed really upset, Harry," Hermione said; "I think it had something to do with… You-Know-Who…"

Harry looked down, and rubbed his eyes; "Wow," he said finally, looking up; "That's a lot to take in."

Ron nodded; "I have a bad feeling that kid is gonna get stuck with us."

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

A/N: uh oh, foreshadowing! Please review! 


	23. Gritted Teeth

A/N: Thank-you for the support, iluvdanrad!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

Orion looked around his room. He was staying in an old bed chamber, presumably of one of the founders of Hogwarts, in this case, Rowena Ravenclaw. He took delight in the colors, and even greater content in the large, soft bed. He had slept for some hours, waking up on his own accord. He had bathed and dressed in a set of robes he found laid out for him, and then enjoyed a small breakfast. He now looked out the window, seeing the Quidditch Stadium and the mountains beyond.

He sighed. Although he was a free man, for a time, he had been confined to the Tower until Anestrothea came for him. He sighed, deciding to explore all over again.

There was a study, a small library of old books, a bathroom, bedroom, sitting room, and a small kitchenette. Orion took comfort in the books left for him, finding them old and fragile, but savory nonetheless.

He had been enjoying a novel when there was a gentle call of bird: someone was at the door. Rising Orion answered, and heaved a sigh.

"Grandfather, won't you come in?"

- - -

Kingsley grumbled incoherent obscenities as he finished getting his things from the Floo Network. He had arrived at the Three Broomsticks, and Rosemerta, through her laughter, and given him a glass of fire whiskey to calm his nerves.

"Oh, Kingsley!" she gasped through her mirth; "Never seen a man come through that fireplace as you just did!"

Frowning Kingsley drowned the glass and handed it back to her; "Yes, well," he said, wiping his lips; "It's this or the street."

Rosemerta finished laughing, her face red and merry; "Well, Albus sent you a carriage to take you to the school."

"Bullocks…" Kingsley grimaced, and Rosemerta began laughing again.

He gathered his things and left the tavern, seeing the Carriage waiting for him. He saw the strange, ethereal horses standing patiently before it. Kingsley placed his things inside the carriage then climbed in himself, unhappy that he could see the thestrals drawn to the carriage. With another sigh, he settled back to wait for the ride to be over and done with.

* * *

Harry and Brenna went with Ron and Hermione to the Gryffindor Common Room, where they were all bombarded with questions. Hermione and Brenna escaped up to her room, while Ron and Harry fended off the crowds.

"Harry, Harry!" Seamus and Dean shouted in unison, grabbing Harry's attention.

"What?" Harry asked them.

"There's a guy in our dorm!" Dean said; "He won't speak to us!"

"He's really odd," Seamus added; "All he said was, and I quote "I am Tristan Gastolph. I vill only speak to 'Arry Potter'. His English _is_ rather sketchy."

Harry nodded, and he and Ron quickly evacuated the crowded common room and to their dormitory. When they arrived, they saw Tristan standing by a window, with arms crossed and a sad lookin his otherwise dark eyes.

"Tristan?" Harry asked, and the teen's head snapped up in his direction.

"'Arry Potter?" the boy asked, and Harry nodded.

"We didn't think you'd be situated so soon," The Boy-Wonder said.

Tristan gazed again out the window; "Neither deed I," he said; "Dee… dee 'ouse elves are very kind, especially dis von… Dobby?" he looked at Harry again with a look of inquiry.

Harry nodded. Ron rolled his eyes, and said; "I'm getting the girls, mate."

He left, leaving the two alone. Harry continued to study Tristan, who paid him no mind for a time. Then, the teen spoke.

"I deed not vant to come," Tristan said with a sigh; "I mees Bulgaria."

"That where you're from?" Harry asked as he walked over to sit on his bed, the one nearest to the window Tristan was gazing through.

"No," Tristan said; "I am frrom Estonia. I vas schooling een Bulgaria," he looked at Harry; "Mein English eez poor," he said earnestly.

"That's perfectly fine, Tristan," Harry said with an easy laugh.

Tristan smirked; "I ahm sooposed to vait for Dumbleedore to bring me a translatorrrr," he stumbled on the words, bringing another smirk to Harry's lips. But Tristan frowned; "Eez not funny!" he said; "I try!"

"I know, I know!" Harry said, holding up his hands; "I shouldn't have laughed, I'm sorry."

Tristan seemed ready to curse Harry, but then, he smiled; "I only keed!" he said, laughing; "Ooh but you ver sorry, veren't you?"

* * *

Hermione and Brenna ran into Brenna's quarters, collapsing on the sofas. "Phew!" Hermione said with a light laugh; "That was crazy!"

"Aye, I'm woozy noow," Brenna groaned, rubbing her head.

Hermione sat up; "How are you feeling, anyway? She asked, quiet and subdued.

Brenna looked at her; "Like hell, honestly," she replied; "Buh, 'tis the way of things, I s'pose…"

She laughed halfheartedly, then shook her head as she sat up; "'Mione, what will Ah do?" she asked, and Hermione reached out for her.

The two girls sat together, and Hermione took Brenna's hand in hers; "You will get through this," she said firmly; "And we'll help you all along the way."

Brenna nodded, tears brimming; "I know," she said, sniffing.

Hermione sighed, and then continued; "Brenna, I won't lie to you," she said; "The next few days, months, years, they're going to be extremely dangerous. Not just for you, but for everyone. But it's our choice whether or not if we make it, no one else's. You alone have the power to control whatever it is that's so…so… overwhelming," she could find no better word, indeed Brenna had no gift, but a condition.

* * *

"And here is your quarters, Professor Shacklebolt."

"Don't call me that, Minerva."

"Well, that is what you are, officially, Kingsley."

Kingsley shot McGonagall a hot glare, and she only chuckled; "It's too easy," she said as she closed the door.

Kingsley looked around. There was a fireplace, a bed, a desk, a small study, a kitchenette, nothing much else besides the windows, which only overlooked a courtyard. The room was attached to his knew classroom, one that Remus previously taught in. Kingsley took the time t

* * *

"So…"

"So…"

They sat in the sitting room, sipping on tea that had been procured earlier. Opposite each other, they would not meet gazes, only quick, awkward glances. Decades of built up defiance and regret separated the two men, one old, the other, in his prime.

Anestrothea sighed; "We must talk, Orion," he said in the ancient language.

Orion finally looked at him after that statement; "I know," he said in English, sipping his tea.

Anestrothea flushed a shade of red, but quickly it was gone as he did the same; "Now, about this trial," he said; "I will be able to convince the Council to postpone it indefinitely, but I'm afraid that until then, you may need to revert back to your prior state."

Orion's eyes narrowed, quite like the cat he had impersonated; "I've not the strength yet to return to such a form, nor the mindset."

Anestrothea sighed a sigh that declared his age and stamina for such drama; "Orion, it is that, or you shall be killed in one way which would bring shame to your name."

"Oh, no martyr's death for me?" Orion asked, setting his tea down and getting up. He walked over to the window, huffing as he crossed his arms.

Anestrothea lowered his head; "Orion, please," he said, causing his grandson to turn around in surprise; "Do this, and your sins shall be of no countenance."

Orion looked away; "Nay," he said, looking up again; "I shall not run and hide again. I have seen, heard, and lived far too much to do that."

* * *

Ron entered Brenna's room to find Hermione and her deep in conversation. They stopped though before he could leave; "Oh, hey Ron," they both said in unison, voices blending eerily.

"Er, 'Ello," Ron said, approaching; "You alright, Brenna?" he asked, worriedly looking at her before glancing at Hermione.

Brenna nodded, rising; "Yeah, Ah'm fine," she said, and then, graced them with a weak smile; "Let's meet this Tristan fellow, eh?"

"Sure you want to?" Ron asked; "He was a bit queer, like Seamus said."

"Aye, 'e's prolly Bulgarian," Brenna said under her breath, and she then left the room.

Ron and Hermione were slow to follow; "She's takin' it hard, isn't she?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded; "She could _die_, Ron," she said, looking up at him; "and she's fully aware of that. I don't know what to do."

Ron wrapped an arm around her; "Stick by her, I guess," he said; "That's what friends are good for, right?"

* * *

In an effort to incorporate Tristan, the four of them along with the new comer had been given the day off from studies. Dumbledore had deduced that it was beneficial for the quartet, anyway, that they have a day of peace after the past night. So, they took lunch in a shady clearing on the outskirts of the Forest.

Tristan proved to be an entertaining individual. With his translator spell intact, he was able to communicate fluently, while he was able to understand those that spoke to and around him. It was supposed to wear off every week or so, but Hermione had learnt the spell. He was the king of jokes and story telling, entertaining the others with wild stories, mostly of Estonian lore and vampirism.

But when Vampirism came up for topic instead of entertainment, Tristan grew steadily quiet. "Tristan," Hermione said; "I know this may be very personal to you, but, I wish to know… are you…?"

"Like my father? No," Tristan replied; "I am just… gifted with magic he's passed along to me. I can, for instance, change my form, as long as I know the animal, or thing. And… I'm good with plants," he said, resting his hand on the ground.

When he lifted his hand, a vine followed his palm, arching and whipping up, leaves and flowers sprouting. Tristan removed his hand with a proud look on his face.

Brenna was flabbergasted, for lack of a better word; "Ah… how…?" on her hands and knees she crawled over and touched the plant, recoiling as it writhed at the sensation; "Great Gods!" she gasped, retreating to Harry.

The group laughed, Tristan the most amused; "I've given it animation," he explained; "It used to be hard, but… I've perfected the art."

"It's impressive," Hermione said; "Do you recite any certain spell?"

Tristan shook his head; "Oy, Tristan," Ron said suddenly; "You say you went to school in Bulgaria?"

"I did…" Tristan replied slowly.

"Went to Durmstrang, did you?"

"For a time…"

"Do you know Krum, Victor Krum?"

Tristan blinked; "Who doesn't know him?" he asked; "The guy's a Quidditch prodigy!" Ron looked at him flatly; "But _personally_? No. Too much of a jerk for my liking;" and thus he waved the subject off with a flick of his wrist.

The little vine jumped, the petals of its flowers ruffling.

Ron looked at Hermione smugly, who reached over to shove him.

Harry laughed, taking Brenna in his arms. It was moments like this that he liked the most, moments where he was just Harry, and nothing else. Ron drilled Tristan with questions about Durmstrang, and Hermione pulled out a novel she had brought. Brenna quickly fell asleep, and Harry leaned back against a tree trunk, watching the conversation.

Yes, this is what he lived for.

And then, a though occurred to him; _No, this is what I _fight_ for_.

Harry glanced down at Brenna. Between the two of them, they were powerhouses and the most sought after people. He more so than Brenna because she had remained lucky enough to stay under the radar, but nevertheless, it really was up to their doing. If anything, their love was tragic, or soon to be.

Nothing good could last, no gold can stay.

So was Harry's sardonic train of thought.

Eventually, Tristan tired of the inquiry, and jumped up to his feet; "So, why is this forest so forbidden?" he asked nonchalantly, venturing to the edge of the clearing and peering in.

"Oh, just the odd dangerous animal, centaurs, dementors, werewolves…" Ron said lazily, waving his hand to and fro with no effort.

"That it?" Tristan asked, looking at them all in turn; "Well, not very frightening…" he again looked at the forest, and then turning he stretched; "So, what are you all doing for the holiday?"

Harry blinked. Christmas _was_ on the rise; "Er, that's a good question," he said, looking around as he thought.

"The Burrow, I suppose," Ron said; "MY home," he explained to Tristan.

"Ah," Tristan said, nodding; "Well, sounds fun, being with family…" His voice, though pleasant, hinted with melancholy.

"Are you going to stay here over holiday?" Hermione asked.

Tristan shrugged; "I don't know," he said; "Papa said I'm to stay here until he comes for me…"

"What's got you here, anyway?" Ron blurted our bluntly.

Hermione shot him a look, but Tristan found no offense; "I… there was an accident," Tristan explained; "My father… he had our clan have been found out as Vampires by the Ministry. I am safe from persecution for I am not a vampire, but, my father, grandfather, uncles and cousin are in danger. And besides, You-Know-Who has already tried to kill my father once, long ago. And now, he's trying again."

"Voldemort's placed a price on Gastolph's head?" Harry asked in shock.

Tristan nodded; "Yes, and a hefty one, so I hear," he said; "But, I don't mind the solitude my stay here will offer."

* * *

Harry realized that he was going to enjoy DADA a lot more for some reason or other, most likely his grotesque fascination with watching Kingsley squirm. The powerful man had never been seen as disturbed, or uncomfortable, but now he was at the head of the class, fumbling. Finally, he threw a cluster of papers down, and addressed the class.

"Alright, I'll be honest," he said; "I was called to this position on short notice, and I haven't had time to adjust, or find out where you all are. This is the sixth year, right?"

A chorus of "yes" was his reply, and he nodded; "Good, good. Now tell me, have you all gotten past… yes?"

Neville, who had raised his hand, no slowly lowered it; "W-where has Professor L-Lupin gone?" he asked shakily.

"Professor Lupin was called away on an urgent matter," Kingsley said shortly. "Now, have you all gotten past chapter… _yes_?" he was speaking through gritted teeth, now.

Lavender lowered her hand; "Are you an auror?" she asked.

Kingsley coughed; "Yes, I am," he replied.

"What did you do before this, then? You don't seem to be the teaching type." Oh but she could be painfully obvious.

Kingsley rubbed his temples; "I hunt…_hunted, _down criminals." He replied; "Alright, does anyone else care to know anything about me and my personal life?"

At least ten hands shot up into the air. Kingsley groaned inwardly. He was likely to die before the end of this.

Harry just sat back and covered his grin with a hand. Oh, this was going to be good.

* * *

One of the most memorable moments of Tristan's arrival happened within the next three days, during a double dose of Herbology. The class was in the midst of "review", but really, Professor Sprout needed supplies. Now, Tristan, Ron, and Harry were instructed to retrieve mandrakes from their pots and then repotting them. They had been placed in a separate greenhouse, to avoid any other students being exposed to the mandrakes' obnoxious and crippling screams.

The three boys were surrounded by at least ten pots, the leafy plants within them wiggling at odd intervals. "I hate this," Ron groaned, watching a plant move forlornly.

"Oh well," Harry sighed.

"Oh, pish posh, just a couple of mandrakes," Tristan said as he ran his fingers through a plant.

Ron snorted; "Yeah, just a couple;" he said disdainfully; "So Harry, remember when next Quidditch game is?"

For a time, the two talked about Quidditch. Tristan, who had no apparent interest in the game, turned his attention to the mandrakes. They were rather easy creatures to tame, he wagered, what with his little advantage. He began stroking this leaf and that leaf, feeling the plant shake and vibrate. He could have sworn he heard a purr-like exclamation.

Harry watched, out of the corner of his eye, Tristan's fascinating routine.

"Tristan…" Harry said uneasily; "what are you doing?"

Ron looked as well; "Blimey, mate, don't try to get it off, then," he said, and Harry couldn't help but smirk.

Tristan looked up; "Oh, what sorry?" he asked; "Oh, this," he said, not taking his hand away; "I think I've just figured out something…" he grabbed the stalk.

"Don't!" Ron exclaimed; "You… _Tristan_…"

Tristan looked at them flatly, one hand on the on the stalk, the other bracing against the table; "And…?" he asked, eyebrow arched smugly.

"NO!" Ron and Harry exclaimed.

But, he pulled.

Ron and Harry dropped to the ground with their ears covered. They sat huddled close together, afraid to move. But, when nothing happened, the stood up, and saw Tristan holding the mandrake free of its pot, stroking the back, just below the stalk. The mandrake emitted a high-pitched buzzing sound, but nothing more.

"Damn you," Ron seethed; "Gave us both heart attacks!"

"Hmmm," Tristan mumbled; "Had he screamed, you wouldn't've died," he looked at Ron expectantly; "Well, get me another pot! I can't keep this up forever, what with nine others still to go…"

Harry shook his head as Ron left to get some empty pots; "Can you teach me how to do that?" he said, looking at Tristan.

"I'm afraid, Dear Harry, you lack the key to this success," Tristan said; "Besides, if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Harry laughed, but saw Tristan looking at him and wondered if he was being serious.

* * *

The following evening, at dinner, another oddity appeared to the quintet. Hermione and Brenna were deep in conversation over astronomy, both attempting to do homework that was due the following evening. Ron and Dean were talking of Quidditch, and Harry was oddly quiet, content with watching his housemates. Tristan was talking with Ginny about types of candies, most of them he did not know of. The two were getting along rather well, Harry noticed.

Most of the chatter was about Kingsley being the newly-appointed DADA teacher. Harry saw him sitting up at the staff table, talking with Sinistra but looking otherwise disgruntled. Harry had to smirk; Kingsley was going to have a hard time of things if he didn't lighten up.

Then, Filch entered the Great Hall, causing all closest to the door to freeze in slight panic. It seemed every time the Squibb entered during dinner, something was amiss. Tucked beneath his arm was a crate with holes, multiple stickers, and a small latched door.

"Think one of Hagrid's side-projects was delivered to the wrong place?" Ron asked with a snicker, Harry joining him.

After searching the room for the owner of the crate, Filch made his was over to Harry. Harry froze, not knowing what to do, and Filch shot him a grimacing glare. But, he bypassed Harry, and set the crate down in front of Tristan, on top of his plate, and knocking his goblet over.

"Here," Filch said; "And this;" he threw a tattered scroll on top of the crate.

Tristan watched the man go, then looked at Harry, pointing at the crate. Harry shrugged. The Great Hall returned to normal, though talk had shifted slightly. Tristan took the scroll, unraveling it and allowing Harry a gander, but he found it to be written in Estonian.

"What's it say?" He asked.

But Tristan ignored him, and smiled as he tucked the scroll away in his pocket. He turned the crate around, saying; "_Minu sõber_?" My Friend?

He opened up the crate, and a black furry ball spilled out into his lap. It turned out to be a cat, with large honey eyes and oddly colored ears. Inside the ears, there was a white, then yellow, and finally an orange stripe.

"Hah! _Katmavilli_!" Tristan exclaimed with a soft laugh, stroking the cat's head. Earnestly he leaned into the affection.

"What the…?" Ron asked, having risen to lean over the table, along with Hermione, Brenna, and several others.

"Tristan, what kind of cat is that?" Seamus asked.

Tristan looked up; "I don't know, honestly," he admitted; "but, he's been my companion for four years now. Haven't you?" he asked the cat, taking it up in his hands and setting him atop the crate.

The cat yowled, a low, agreeing sound. He stretched his lean limbs and dragged his claws against the wood, then sat down once more in Tristan's lap.

"No to do away with this crate…" Tristan grumbled, trying to ignore the attention the House was giving him.

Hermione, wordlessly, held out her wand and tapped it twice. There was a spinning hiss, the crate disappeared.

* * *

Orion and Anestrothea had bickered for the better part of four hours, neither willing to back down or stand up. Orion was adamant about remaining in his current state and staying at Hogwarts, to better protect Brenna, but Anestrothea would not have Orion staying on Dumbledore's doorstep, seeing as how the man had offered up his house to so many already. They had ignored the arrival of Tristan, leaving the vampire's affairs to vampires, for they had their own.

Finally, Anestrothea sighed. He was weary of arguing. "Then come back to Delgrishire, won't you?" he asked finally.

"I'd be killed," Orion replied; "You know that."

Anestrothea nodded; "Orion, there is no way for you to _walk_ out of this on _two_ feet."

Orion rolled his eyes, but sighed. He had given it his very best, he supposed, though most often being the best meant succeeding.

"What of Brenna?" he asked finally, after a time.

"She's coming home, of course," He said; "After… after…" he couldn't find the words; "She will be coming home."

"She will cripple under the stress," Orion quipped; "Take her away from here and she will no longer be Brenna."

"What else have I to do?" Anestrothea asked; "Do enlighten me, if you have any suggestions."

"I have one;" Orion said; "Let her stay."

"She cannot, it is too—"

"Too what, too dangerous?" Orion cut him off sharply; "No, safer. Albus has more defenses than you care to admit, grandfather. Brenna will do well here, regardless of what she has." It hurt him that they spoke of Brenna as if she had a disease. But was it not a crippling condition, being the Torch?

He did his best to oversee it.

Anestrothea was quiet. Rising, he stared up at the unmoving portrait of the Ravenclaw, admiring the detail. He was a fool for art, but it did little in helping him focus and come to a conclusion. He turned and looked at Orion.

"Fine," he said; "And you may stay, only if you return to you feline form."

Orion would have become enraged, but his anger had waned to the point he could only be slightly annoyed. "When I have the strength, I will," he finally said; "Though I will talk when I see fit."

"Only in front of those who know you are capable of doing so," Anestrothea instructed. "Orion, Brenna must be watched at all times, especially now."

Orion nodded. After a time, he said; "Any word of my brother, or Riddle?"

Anestrothea nodded; "Riddle has once again confronted the council."

Orion nodded; "And… McNay?"

"He was spotted in Wales."

"Damn," Orion said flatly, leaning back.

* * *

Later, Anestrothea found Brenna and told her of the goings on. She ended up missing most of Astronomy, as a result. Harry, Ron, Tristan and Hermione waited up for her in the common room, finding it to their own as the hours grew late and the sky dark.

She finally climbed through the portrait hole, her book bag snagging, Harry helped her in, and then they headed over to the group situation around the fire.

"So… what's going to happen next?" Hermione asked.

"Et looks like Ah'm stayin' wit' Tristan an' 'Arry ovah break," Brenna said with a sigh.

"Oh… that's good though, isn't it?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione for confirmation.

Brenna shrugged; "Mah brothah was spotted in Wales," she explained; "an' Orion's going to stay, as Crookshanks."

"Oh that's splendid!" Hermione said, clapping. She had missed her cat, even though it was all a ruse. Besides, Orion was a very intelligent conservationist.

Brenna smiled at her enthusiasm, then, she looked at Harry; "M' Grandah wanted ya t' know he's got an eye on ya, as well, 'Arry," she said; "McNay's in roon with Vol…Voldemort, anyway…"

Harry held her hand for support, then looked at the group; "So Ron, you're going to the Burrow?"

Ron nodded; "I might come early, though," he said; "Mum and Dad want to visit Charlie again, and I hate Romania."

Tristan laughed at that; "It's a very nasty place," he commented.

Katmavilli came down the steps then, with a small ball of yarn in his delicate ivory fangs. He dropped it at Tristan's feet and curled up in the teen's lap, idly swatting at the ball with his oddly grey-tinted paw.

"That has got to be one of the oddest cats I've ever seen," Ron said before he could stop himself.

Tristan laughed again; "I know, right?" he asked, glancing up at the redhead. He took the yarn and tossed it. With a small yowl, Katmavilli bounded after it.

"Hermione, are you visiting our parents?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded; "Mom's got a bout with the flu, I'm afraid; "She said; "So I'll have to be there to at least help with cooking dinner!" she laughed lightly then, quietly though.

Silence reigned for a time. The only relevant sound was the crackling of the logs, and the jingly sounding purr Katmavilli emitted when he found his yarn. Each teen seemed deep in thought. Hermione over what she still had to find out, Ron about everyone, Tristan about his father, Brenna about herself and Harry, and Harry, well, all of the above.

They turned in soon after, the tension too much for bearing.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

a/n: please review! 


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